LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

^^l^ 

Chap.X--- Copyright No. 

Shell^Jd-S.. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



f 



k 



MY LITERARY ZOO 



KATE SANBORN'S BOOKS. 



Abandoning an Adopted Farm. 

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** Can not fail to be of the utmost interest to any and all who 
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country people. Miss Sanborn is simply inimitable in her ability 
to catch the humorous in what is passing about her, and in set- 
ting it down so that others can enjoy it." — Cleveland World. 

Adopting an Abandoned Farm. 

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necticut, as illustrious as Slickville in Onion County, of the same 
State." — The Critic. 

** If any one wants an hour's entertainment for a warm sunny 
day on the piazza, or a cold wet day by a log fire, this is the 
book that will furnish it." — New York Observer. 

A Truthful Woman in Southern 

California. i2mo. Cloth, 75 cents. 

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book bears her name it is safe to buy it and put it aside f^r delec- 
tation when a leisure hour comes along. This bit of a volume 
is enticing in every page, and the weather seemed not to be so 
intolerably hot while we were reading it." — New York Herald. 

** Her descriptions are inimitable, and their brilliancy is en- 
hanced with quaint and witty observations and brief hl'^torical 
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Journal. 

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 



my Cittrary Zoo 



Kate Sanborn 

Hutbor of Hdoptitid an Hbdii4oncd Tatm* TIBattclonind 

an Hdopted Tarm, H truthful UPoman 

in Southern c:aitfomia, €tc. 




new Vork 
D« Bppkton and Company 

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Copyright, 1896, 
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 



CONTENTS, 



S PAGE 

Everybody's pets . . . o . . i 

Devoted to dogs 19 

Cats 75 

All sorts 105 

V 



MY LITERARY ZOO. 



EVERYBODY'S PETS. 

The world's not seen him yet, 
Who has not loved a pet. 

Not the human pets of noted per- 
sons, such as Walter Scott's Pet Mar- 
jorie, that winsome, precocious little 
witch, so loved by the '' Wizard of the 
North/' or Bettina von Arnim, the 
eccentric, brilliant girl, whose rhap- 
sodic idolatry was placidly encour- 
aged by the great Goethe, but the 
dumb favourites of distinguished men 
and women. 

I must devote a few pages to the 
various tributes to insects, birds, and 
animals, written about with love, pity, 
or admiration, yet not as pets, as Burns's 
address to the Mousie : 

I'm truly sorry man's dominion 
Has broken Nature's social union, 
1 



iJlg £iterara ^00. 



And justifies that ill opinion, 
Which makes thee startle 

At me, thy poor earth-bom companion 
And fellow-mortal ; 

and another to an unspeakable insect 
that rhymes with mouse. We remem- 
ber, too, his essay on Inhuman Man, 
as he saw a wounded hare limp by. 
The fly has often been honoured in 
prose or verse, but we all like best the 
benevolent speech of dear Uncle Toby 
in Tristram Shandy to the overgrown 
bluebottle, which- had buzzed about 
his nose and tormented him cruelly 
during dinner, and which, after infi- 
nite attempts, he had caught at last. 
*' rU not hurt thee," said Uncle Toby; 
'' rU not hurt a hair of thy head. 
Go," said he, lifting up the window^ — 
''go, poor devil, get thee gone. Why 
should I hurt thee? This w^orld sure- 
ly is wide enough to hold both thee 
and me." 

Tristram adds, '' The lesson then im- 
printed has never since been an hour 
out of mind, and I often think that I 
owe one half of my philanthropy to 
that one accidental impression." 

The Greek grasshopper must have 



(£vcx^boWQ pets. 



been a wonderful creature, a sacred 
object, and spoken of as a charming 
songster. When Socrates and Phae- 
drus came to the fountain shaded by 
the palm tree, where they had their 
famous discourse, Socrates spoke of 
'' the choir of grasshoppers.'* 

Another makes the insect say to a 
rustic w^ho had captured him : 

Me, the Nymphs' wayside minstrel, whose sweet 

note 
O'er sultry hill is heard, and shady grove to float. 

Still another sings how a grasshop- 
per took the place of a broken string 
on his lyre and '' filled the cadence 
due/' 

This Pindaric grasshopper seems 
quite unlike the ravaging locust of 
the West. Burroughs suggests that 
he should be brought to our country, 
as some one is trying to introduce the 
English lark. 

Emerson devotes a poem to the 
burly dozing bumblebee, a genuine 
optimist : 

Wiser far than human seer, 
Yellow-breeched philosopher ; 
Seeing only what is fair, 
Sipping only what is sweet. 



ilT2 Citerars Zoo, 



A delightful volume could be com- 
piled on the literature of bird life, 
from the cuckoo, the earliest songster 
honoured by the poets, to Matthew 
Arnold's canary. Passing on to ani- 
mals, the Lake poets were interested 
to a noticeable degree in these humble 
companions. In Peter Bell, a poem 
that proved Wordsworth's theories 
about poetry to be untenable, the ass 
is the hero, a veritable preacher, as in 
the days of Balaam. And Coleridge, 
greatly to the amusement of his crit- 
ics, addressed some lines To a Young 
Ass, its Mother being tethered near it: 

How askingly its footsteps hither tend ! 

It seems to say. And have I then one friend ? 

Innocent foal ! thou poor despised forlorn ! 

I hail thee brother, spite of the fool's scorn ! 

And fain would take thee with me, in the dell 

Of peace and mild equality to dwell. 

Where Toil shall call the charmer Health his 

bride, 
And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side ! 
How thou \vouldst toss thy heels in gamesome 

play. 
And frisk about as lamb or kitten gay ! 
Yea ! and more musically sweet to me 
Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be, 
Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest 
The aching of pale fashion's vacant breast. 



©tJergbobB's pets. 



Wordsworth also wrote on The 
White Doe of Rylstone and The 
Pet Lamb. 

Southey paid his respects to The 
Pig and a Dancing Bear : 

Alas, poor Bruin ! How he foots the pole, 
And waddles round it with unwieldy steps 
Swaying from side to side. The dancing 

master 
Hath had as profitless a pupil in him 
As when he tortured my poor toes 
To minuet grace, and made them move like 

clock-work 
In musical obedience. 

After sympathizing with his '' piteous 
plight '' he draws a moral for the ad- 
vocates of the slave trade. 

He also addressed poems to The Bee 
and A Spider ; the latter must be given 
entire, it is so strong and original in its 
comparisons : 

Spider ! thou needst not run in fear about 

To shun my curious eyes ; 
I won't humanely crush thy bowels out 

Lest thou should eat the flies ; 
Nor will I roast thee with a damned delight, 

Thy strange instinctive fortitude to see, 
For there is One who might 

One day roast me. 



iHg £iterat2 Zoo, 



Weaver of snares, thou emblemest the ways 

Of Satan, sire of lies ; 
Hell's huge black spider, for mankind he lays 

His toils, as thou for flies. 
When Betty's busy eye runs round the room, 

Woe to that nice geometry, if seen ! 
But where is he whose broom 

The earth shall clean ? 

Thou busy labourer ! one resemblance more 

May yet the verse prolong. 
For, spider, thou art like the poet poor, 

Whom thou hast helped in song. 
Both busily our needful food to win 

We work as Nature taught, with ceaseless 
pains. 
Thy bowels thou dost spin, 

I spin my brains. 

You remember that the pertinacity 
with which a spider renewed his exer- 
tions after failing six times to fix his 
net, roused Bruce to perseverance and 
success. 

Cackling geese saved Rome, and Ca- 
ligula shod his favourite horse with gold 
and nominated him for vice consul, as 
he considered him vastly superior to 
the men who aspired to that honour- 
able position. Virgil amused his lei- 
sure hours with a gnat. Homer made 
pets of frogs and mice. 



(KtJersbobg's |)et0. 



The horse has been dearly loved by 
many famous people who have not 
been ashamed to own it. 

Mr. Everett once told a pathetic anec- 
dote of Edmund Burke, that ^4n the 
decline of his life, when living in re- 
tirement on his farm at Beaconsfield, 
the rumour went up to London that 
he had gone mad and went round his 
park kissing his cows and horses. His 
only son had died not long before, 
leaving a petted horse which had been 
turned into the park and treated as a 
privileged favourite. Mr. Burke in his 
morning walks would often stop to 
caress the favourite animal. On one 
occasion the horse recognised Mr. 
Burke from a distance, and coming 
nearer and nearer, eyed him with the 
most pleading look of recognition, and 
said as plainly as words could have 
said, ' I have lost him too ! ' and then 
the poor dumb beast deliberately laid 
his head upon Mr. Burke's bosom. 
Overwhelmed by the tenderness of 
the animal, expressed in the mute elo- 
quence of holy Nature's universal lan- 
guage, the illustrious statesman for a 
moment lost his self-possession and 



ittg titcxat^ Zoo. 



clasping his arms around his son's fa- 
vourite animal, lifted up that voice 
which had caused the arches of West- 
minster Hall to echo the noblest strains 
that sounded within them, and wept 
aloud. Burke is gone; but, sir, so 
hold me Heaven, if I were called 
upon to designate the event or the 
period in Burke's life that would best 
sustain a charge of insanity, it would 
not be when, in a gush of the holiest 
and purest feeling that ever stirred 
the human heart, he wept aloud on the 
neck of a dead son's favourite horse." 
Lord Erskine composed some lines 
to the memory of a beloved pony. 
Jack, who had carried him on the 
home circuit when he was first called 
to the bar, and could not afford any 
more sumptuous mode of travelling : 

Poor Jack ! thy master's friend when he was poor, 
Whose heart was faithful and whose step was 

sure ! 
Should prosperous life debauch my erring heart, 
And whispering pride repel the patriot's part ; 
Should my foot falter at ambition's shrine 
And for mean lucre quit the path divine, 
Then may I think of thee — when I was poor — 
Whose heart was faithful and whose step was 

sure. 



^tjersboba's JjJets. 



The following address of an Arab 
to his horse is translated from the 
Arabic by Bayard Taylor : 

Come, my beauty ! come, my desert darling ! 

On my shoulder lay thy glossy head. 
Fear not, though the barley sack be empty, 

Here's the half of Hassan's scanty bread. 

Bend thy forehead now to take my kisses, 
Lift in love thy dark and splendid eye. 

Thou art glad when Hassan mounts the saddle, 
Thou art proud he owns thee ; so am I. 

We have seen Damascus, O my beauty ! 

And the splendour of the pashas there ; 
What's their pomp and riches ? Why, I would 
not 

Take them for a handful of thy hair ! 

Thou shalt have thy share of dates, my beauty, 
And thou know'st my w^ater skin is free. 

Drink, and welcome ; for the springs are distant. 
And my strength and safety are in thee. 

Bayard Taylor loved and appreci- 
ated animals, and in an article in the 
Atlantic Monthly of February, 1877, 
on Studies of Animal Nature, he says : 
" If Darwin^s theory should be true, 
it will not degrade man ; it will sim- 
ply raise the whole animal world into 
dignity, leaving man as far in advance 
as he is at present." 



lo itlg Citerara Zoo. 

He adds: ''I have always had a 
great respect for animals, and have 
endeavoured to treat them with the 
consideration which I think they de- 
serve. They have quick perceptions, 
and know when to be confiding or 
reticent. I have learned no better 
way to gain their confidence than to 
ask myself, If I were such or such an 
animal, how should I wish to be treat- 
ed by man ? and to act upon that sug- 
gestion. Since the key to the separate 
languages has been lost on both sides, 
the higher intelligence must conde- 
scend to open some means of commu- 
nication with the lower. 

^' The zoologists unfortunately rare- 
ly trouble themselves to do this; they 
are more interested in the skull of an 
elephant, the thigh-bone of a bird, or 
the dorsal fin of a fish, than in the in- 
telligence or rudimentary moral sense 
of the creature. But the former field 
is open to all laymen, and nothing but 
a stubborn traditional contempt for 
our slaves or our hunted enemies in 
the animal world has held us back 
from a truer knowledge of them. 

'' In the first place, animals have much 



more capacity to understand human 
speech than is generally supposed. 
Some years ago, seeing the hippo- 
potamus in Barnum's Museum look- 
ing very stolid and dejected, I spoke 
to him in English, but he did not even 
move his eyes. Then I went to the 
opposite corner of the cage and said 
in Arabic : ' I know you ; come here 
to me.' He instantly turned his head 
toward me. I repeated the words, 
and thereupon he came to the corner 
where I was standing, pressed his 
huge, ungainly head against the bars 
of the cage, and looked in my face 
with a touching delight while I 
stroked his muzzle. I have two or 
three times found a lion who recog- 
nised the same language, and the ex- 
pression of his eyes for an instant 
seemed positively human.'' 

He also tells his experience with a 
tame lioness in Africa. '' In a short 
time we were very good friends. She 
knew me, and always seemed glad to 
see me, though I sometimes teased 
her a little by getting astride of her 
back, or sitting upon her when she 
was lying down. When she was in 

2 



12 iHg Citerarg Zoo. 

a playful mood she would come to 
meet me as far as the rope would 
let her, get her forepaws around my 
leg and then take it in her mouth, as 
if she were going to eat me up. I was 
a little alarmed when she did this for 
the first time ; but I soon saw that she 
was merely in play, and had no thought 
of hurting me, so I took her by the 
ears and slapped her sides, until at last 
she la}^ down and licked my hand. 
Her tongue was as coarse as a nut- 
meg grater, and my hand felt as if the 
skin was being rasped off. 

" There was also a leopard in the 
garden with which I used to play a 
great deal, but which I never loved 
so well as the lioness. He was smaller 
and more active, and soon learned to 
jump upon my shoulders when I 
stooped down, or to climb up the 
tree to which he was tied, whenever 
I commanded him. But he was not 
so affectionate as the lioness, and 
sometimes forgot to draw in his claws 
when he played, so that he not only 
tore my clothing, but scratched my 
hands. I still have the marks of one of 
his teeth on the back of my right hand. 



©tJ^tabobg's Pets. 13 

'' My old lioness was never rough, 
and I have frequently, when she had 
stretched out to take a nap, sat upon 
her back for half an hour at a time, 
smoking my pipe or reading. 

'* I assure you I was very sorry to 
part with her, and when I saw her for 
the last time one moonlight night, I 
gave her a good hug and an affection- 
ate kiss. She would have kissed me 
back if her mouth had not been too 
large ; but she licked my hand to 
show that she loved me, then laid her 
big head upon the ground and went 
to sleep. 

"Dear old lioness! I wonder if 
you ever think of me. I wonder if 
you would know me, should we ever 
see each other again." 

If our late minister to Berlin, the 
accomplished poet, linguist, and cos- 
mopolitan, could give his attention to 
animals as friends and companions, 
there can be nothing belittling in 
reading their praises as said or sung 
by those whom we all delight to 
honour. 

Hamerton, indeed, makes a com- 
parison in which we come out but 



14 iits £iterarB Zoo. 

second best. He says: ''How much 
weariness has there been in the hu- 
man race during the last fifty years, 
because the human race can not stop 
politically where it was, and, finding 
no rest, is pushed to a strange future 
that the wisest look forward to grave- 
ly, as certainly very dark and prob- 
ably very dangerous ! Meanwhile, 
have the bees suffered any political 
uneasiness? have they doubted the 
use of royalty or begrudged the cost 
of their queen ? Have those industri- 
ous republicans, the ants, gone about 
uneasily seeking after a sovereign ? 
Has the eagle grown w^eary of his 
isolation and sought strength in the 
practice of socialism ? Has the dog 
become too enlightened to endure 
any longer his position as man's hum- 
ble friend, and contemplated a canine 
union for mutual protection against 
masters? No; the great principles 
of these existences are superior to 
change, and that which man is per- 
petually seeking — a political order in 
perfect harmony with his condition — 
the brute has inherited with his in- 
stincts." 



(£vcx^hoWB pets. 15 

Cowper, in The Task, devotes sev^- 
eral pages to the proper treatment of 
animals, and expresses his admiration 
for their many noble qualities : 

Distinguished much by reason, and still more 
By our capacity of grace divine, 
From creatures, that exist but for our sake, 
Which, having served us, perish, we are held 
Accountable ; and God some future day. 
Will reckon with us roundly for the abuse 
Of what he deems no mean or trivial trust. 
Superior as we are, they yet depend 
Not more on human help than we on theirs. 
Their strength, or speed, or vigilance, were given 
In aid of our defects. In some are found 
Such teachable and apprehensive parts, 
That man's attainments in his own concerns. 
Matched with the expertness of the brutes in 

theirs. 
Are ofttimes vanquished and thrown far behind. 
Some show that nice sagacity of smell, 
And read with such discernment, in the port 
And figure of the man, his secret aim, 
That oft we owe our safety to a skill 
We could not teach, and must despair to learn. 

Bryant, in his well-known Lines to 
a Waterfowl, has a striking thought : 

. . . He w^ho from zone to zone 

Guides through the boundless sky thy certain 
flight. 
In the long w^ay that I must tread alone. 
Will lead my steps aright. 



BOW-WOW-WOW ! 

The dogge forsaketh not Ids master ; no, not when 
he is starcke dead. — Dr. Caius. 

Dog with the pensive hazel eyes, 

Shagg}' coat, or feet of tan, 
What do you think when you look so wise 

Into the face of your fellow, man ? 

— W, C. Olmsted. 

17 



DEVOTED TO DOGS. 

We long for an affection altogether ignorant of our 
faults. Heaven has accorded this to us in the un- 
critical canine attachment. — George Eliot. 

Literature, history, and biogra- 
phy are full to overflowing of in- 
stances of affection between dogs and 
their owners. Remember the dog 
Argus, which died of joy on the re- 
turn of his master Ulysses after twenty 
years' absence. The story is touch- 
ingly told in Homer's Odyssey : 

" As he draws near the gates of his 
own palace, he espies, dying of old 
age, disease, and neglect, his dog Ar- 
gus — the companion of many a long 
chase in happier days. His instinct 
at once detects his old master, even 
through the disguise lent by the god- 
dess of wisdom. Before he sees him 
he knows his voice and step, and raises 
his ears — 

19 



20 iHg £iterars Zoo, 

And when he marked Odysseus in the way, 
And could no longer to his lord come near, 

Fawned with his tail and drooped in feeble play 
His ears. Odysseus, turning, wiped a tear." 

It is poor Argus's last effort, and the 
old hound turns and dies — 

Just having seen Odysseus in the twentieth year. 

Egyptians held the dog in adora- 
tion as the representative of one of 
the celestial signs, and the Indians 
considered him one of the sacred 
forms of their deities. The dog is 
placed at the feet of women in monu- 
ments, to symbolize affection and fidel- 
ity ; and many of the Crusaders are 
represented with their feet on a dog, 
to show that they followed the stand- 
ard of the Lord as a dog follows the 
footsteps of his master. '' Man," said 
Burns, ''is the god of the dog" — 
knows nothing higher to reverence 
and ohGj. Kings and queens have 
found their most faithful friends 
among dogs. Frederick the Great 
allowed his elegant furniture at Pots- 
dam to be nearly ruined by his dogs, 
who jumped upon the satin chairs and 
slept cosily on the luxurious sofas, and 



DetJOteb t0 Dogs. 21 

quite a cemetery may still be seen de- 
voted to his pets. The pretty spaniel 
belonging to Mary Queen of Scots de- 
serves honourable mention. He loved 
his ill-starred mistress when her hu- 
man friends had forsaken her; nestled 
close b}^ her side at the execution, 
and had to be forced away from her 
bleeding body. One of the prettiest 
pictures of the Princess of Wales is 
taken with a tiny spaniel in her arms. 

Before going further, just recall 
some of the most famous dogs of 
mythology, literature, and life, sim- 
ply giving their names for want of 
space : 

Arthur's dog Cavall. 

Dog of Catherine de' Medicis, Phoe- 
be, a lapdog. 

Cuthullin's dog Luath, a swift-footed 
hound. 

Dora's dog Jip. 

Douglas's dog Luffra, from The 
Lady of the Lake. 

Fingal's dog Bran. 

Landseer's dog Brutus, painted as 
The Invader of the Larder. 

Llewellyn's dog Gelert. 

Lord Lurgan's dog Master Mc- 



2 2 iHg Citerarg ^00. 

Grath : presented at court by the ex- 
press desire of Queen Victoria. 

Maria's dog Silvio, in Sterne's Senti- 
mental Journey. 

Punch's dog Toby. 

Sir Walter Scott's dogs Maida, 
Camp, Hamlet. 

Dog of the Seven Sleepers, Katmir. 

The famous Mount St. Bernard dog, 
which saved forty human beings, was 
named Barry. His stuffed skin is pre- 
served in the museum at Berne. 

Sir Isaac Newton's dog, who by 
overturning a candle destroyed much 
precious manuscript, was named Dia- 
mond. 

The ancient Xantippus caused his 
dog to be inteiTcd on an eminence 
near the sea, which has ever since re- 
tained his name, Cynossema. There 
are even legends of nations that have 
had a dog for their king. It is said 
that barking is not a natural faculty, 
but is acquired through the dog's de- 
sire to talk with man. In a state of 
nature, dogs simply whine and howl. 

When Alexander encountered Di- 
ogenes the cynic, the young Macedo- 
nian king introduced himself with the 



JHeDOteb to IDogs. 23 

words, *' I am Alexander, surnamed 
' the Great.' " To which the philoso- 
pher replied, ''And I am Diogenes, 
surnamed ' the Dog.' " The Athenians 
raised to his memory a pillar of Parian 
marble, surmounted with a dog, and 
bearing the following inscription : 

" Say, dog, what guard you in that tomb ? " 
A dog. " His name ? " Diogenes. " From far ? '* 

Sinope. *' He who made a tub his home ? " 
The same ; now dead, among the stars a star. 

What man or woman worth remem- 
bering but has loved at least one dog ? 
Hamerton, in speaking of the one dog 
—the special pet and dear companion 
of every boy and many a girl, from 
Ulysses to Bismarck — observes that 
*' the comparative shortness of the 
lives of dogs is the only imperfec- 
tion in the relation between them and 
us. If they had lived to threescore 
and ten, man and dog might have trav- 
elled through life together; but as it 
is, we must have either a succession 
of affections, or else, when the first is 
buried in its early grave, live in a chill 
condition of dog-lessness." I thank 
him for coining that compound word. 
Almost every one might, like Grace 



24 ills Citetatg Zoo, 

Greenwood and Gautier, write a His- 
tory of my Pets, and make a most 
readable book. Bismarck honoured 
one of his dogs, Nero, with a formal 
funeral. The body was borne on the 
shoulders of eight workmen dressed 
in black to a grave in the park. He 
had been poisoned, and a large re- 
ward was offered for the discovery of 
the assassin. The prince, statesman, 
diplomatist, does not believe in dog- 
lessness, and gives to another hound, 
equally devoted, the same intense af- 
fection. *^ My dog — where is my 
dog?'* are his first words on alight- 
ing from a railway, as Sultan must 
travel second class. He even mixes 
the food for his dogs with his own 
hands, believing it will make them 
love him the more. 

Another Nero was the special com- 
panion of Mrs. Carlyle, a little white 
dog, who had for his playmate a black 
cat, whose name was Columbine, and 
Carlyle says that during breakfast, 
whenever the dining-room door was 
opened, Nero and Columbine would 
come waltzing into the room in the 
height of joy. He went with his 



tSicvotth t0 tDcgs. 25 

mistress everywhere, led by a chain 
for fear of thieves. For eleven years 
he cheered her life at Craigenputtock, 
** the loneliest nook in Britain." 

Nero's death was a tragical one. In 
October, 1859, while walking out with 
the maid one evening, a butcher's cart 
driving furiously round a sharp corner 
ran over his throat. He was not killed 
on the spot, although his mistress says 
*' he looked killed enougji at first." The 
poor fellow was put into a warm bath, 
wrapped up in flannels, and left to die. 
The morning found him better, how- 
ever ; he was able to wag his tail 
in response to the caresses of his mis- 
tress. 

Little by little he recovered the use 
of himself, but it was ten days before 
he could bark. 

He lived four months after this, 
docile, affectionate, loyal up to his 
last hour, but weak and full of pain. 
The doctor was obliged at last to give 
him prussic acid. They buried him at 
the top of the garden in Cheyne Row, 
and planted cowslips round his grave, 
and his loving mistress placed a stone 
tablet, with name and date, to mark 



26 illg £iter atg Zoo. 

the last resting place of her blessed 
dog. 

'' I could not have believed,'* writes 
Carlyle in the Memorials, " my grief 
then and since would have been the 
twentieth part of what it was — nay, 
that the want of him would have been 
to me other than a riddance. Our last 
midnight walk together — for he insist- 
ed on trying to come — January 31st, is 
still painful to my thought. Little dim 
white speck of life, of love, fidelity, and 
feeling, girdled by the darkness of night 
eternal." 

Is not that a delightful revelation of 
tenderness in the heart of the grand old 
growler, biographer, critic, historian, 
essayist, prophet, whom most people 
feared ? I like to read it again and again. 

The selfish, cynical Horace Walpole 
sat up night after night with his dying 
Rosette. He wrote : *' Poor Rosette 
has suffered exquisitely ; you may be- 
lieve I have too,'' and honoured her 
with this epitaph : 

Sweetest roses of the year 
Strew around my Rose's bier. 
Calmly may the dust repose 
Of my pretty, faithful Rose ; 



Decoteir to Dogs. 27 

And if yon cloud-topped hill behind 

This frame dissolved, this breath resigned, 

Some happier isle, some humbler heaven, 

Be to my trembling wishes given, 

Admitted to that equal sky 

May sweet Rose bear me company. 

And of the dog Touton, left him by 
Madame du Deffand, he said : '' It is 
incredible how fond I am of it ; but I 
have no occasion to brag of my dog- 
manity' (another expressive word). He 
said, '' A dog, though a flatterer, is still 
a friend." Byron, that egotistic, mis- 
anthropic genius, composed an epitaph 
on Boatswain, his favourite dog, whose 
death threw the moody poet into deep, 
est melancholy. The dog's grave is to 
the present day shown among the con- 
spicuous objects at Newstead. The 
poet, in one of his impulsive moments, 
gave orders in a provision of his will 
— ultimately however, cancelled — that 
his own body should be buried by the 
side of Boatswain, as his truest and 
only friend. This noble animal was 
seized with madness, and so little was 
his lordship aware of the fact, that at 
the beginning of the attack he more 
than once, during the paroxysms, 



2 8 m^ Citerarg Zoo. 

wiped away the dreaded saliva from 
his mouth. After his death Lord By- 
ron wrote to his friend Mr. Hodges : 
'' Boatswain is dead. He died in a 
state of madness on the i8th, after suf- 
ering much, yet retaining all the gen- 
tleness of his nature to the last, never 
attempting to do the least injury to 
any one near him. I have now lost 
everything excepting old Murray.'' 
Visitors to his old estate will find a 
marked monument with this tribute : 

NEAR THIS SPOT 

ARE DEPOSITED THE REMAINS OF 

ONE THAT POSSESSED BEAUTY, WITHOUT VANITY, 

STRENGTH, WITHOUT INSOLENCE, 

COURAGE, WITHOUT FEROCITY, 

AND ALL THE VIRTUES OF MAN, WITHOUT HIS VICES. 

THIS PRAISE, WHICH WOULD BE 

UNMEANING FLATTERY 

IF INSCRIBED OVER HUMAN ASHES, 

IS BUT A JUST TRIBUTE 

TO THE MEMORY OF BOATSWAIN, A DOG, 

WHO WAS BORN IN NEWFOUNDLAND, MAY, 1803, 

AND DIED 

AT NEWSTEAD ABBEY, NOVEMBER 18, 1808. 

Epitaph, 

When some proud son of man returns to earth 
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, 
The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe, 
And storied urns record who rests below ; 



T3cvoUi t0 D090. 29 

When all is done, upon the tomb is seen 
Not what he was, but what he should have been. 
But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, 
The first to welcome, the foremost to defend. 
Whose honest heart is still his master's own, 
Who labours, fights, liv^es, breathes for him alone, 
Unhonoured falls, unnoticed all his worth. 
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth ; 
While man, vain insect, hopes to be forgiven, 
And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven, 

man, thou feeble tenant of an hour. 
Debased by slaver}^ or corrupt by power, 

Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust. 

Degraded mass of animated dust. 

Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, 

Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit. 

By Nature vile, ennobled but by name, 

Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for 

shame. 
Ye who perchance behold this simple urn 
Pass on, it honours none you wish to mourn; 
To mark a friend's remains these stones arise : 

1 never knew but one, and here he lies. 

Walter Scott's dogs had an extraor- 
dinary fondness for him. Swanston 
declares that he had to stand by, when 
they were leaping and fawning about 
him, to beat them off lest they should 
knock him down. One day, when he 
and Swanston were in the armory, 
Maida (the dog which now lies at 
his feet in the monument at Edin- 



30 Ms ititerarg ^00. 

burgh), being outside, had peeped in 
through the window, a beautifully 
painted one, and the instant she got 
a glance of her beloved master she 
bolted right through it and at hinri. 
Lady Scott, starting at the crash, ex- 
claimed, " O gracious, shoot her ! " 
But Scott, caressing her with the ut- 
most coolness, said, ^' No, no, mamma, 
though she were to break every win- 
dow at Abbotsford." He was en- 
gaged for an important dinner party 
on the day his dog Camp died, but 
sent word that he could not go, '' on 
account of the death of a dear old 
friend/' He tried early one morn- 
ing to make the fire of peat burn, 
and after many efforts succeeded in 
some degree. At this moment one of 
the dogs, dripping from a plunge in 
the lake, scratched and whined at the 
window. Sir Walter let the ''puir 
creature '' in, who, coming up before 
the little fire, shook his shaggy hide, 
sending a perfect shower bath over 
the fire and over a great table of loose 
manuscripts. The tender-hearted au- 
thor, eying the scene with his usual 
serenity, said slowly, '' O dear, ye Ve 



done a great deal of mischief!" This 
equanimity is only equalled by Sir 
Isaac Newton's exclamation, now, 
alas ! pronounced a fiction, ^' O Dia- 
mond, Diamond, little dost thou know 
the injury thou hast done ! '' 

"The wisest dog I ever had," said 
Scott, " was what is called the bull- 
dog terrier. I taught him to under- 
stand a great many words, insomuch 
that I am positive that the commu- 
nication betwixt the canine species 
and ourselves might be greatly en- 
larged. Camp once bit the baker who 
was bringing bread to the family. I 
beat him and explained the enormity 
of the offence, after which, to the last 
moment of his life, he never heard the 
least allusion to the story, in whatever 
voice or tone it was mentioned, with- 
out getting up and retiring to the 
darkest corner of the room with great 
appearance of distress. Then if you 
said, ' The baker was well paid,' or * The 
baker was not hurt, after all,' Camp 
came forth from his hiding place, ca- 
pered and barked and rejoiced. When 
he was unable, toward the end of his 
life, to attend me when on horseback, 



32 UTri Citerarg Zoo. 

he used to watch for my return, and 
the servant would tell him ' his mas- 
ter was coming down the hill ' or 
'through the moor/ and, although he 
did not use any gesture to explain his 
meaning, Camp was never known to 
mistake him, but either went out at 
the front to go up the hill or at the 
back to get down to the moorside. 
He certainly had a singular knowl- 
edge of spoken language/' 

Once when the great novelist was 
sitting for his picture he exclaimed, 
*' I am as tired of the operation as old 
Maida, who has been so often sketched 
that he got up and walked off with 
signs of loathing whenever he saw an 
artist unfurl his paper and handle his 
brushes ! " 

It is well known that a dog instantly 
discerns a friend from an enemy ; in 
fact, he seems to know all those who 
are friendly to his race. There are 
few things more touching in the life 
of this great man than the fact that, 
when he walked in the streets of 
Edinburgh, nearly every dog he met 
came and fawned on him, wagged 
his tail at him, and thus showed 



his recognition of the friend of his 
race. 

Apropos of understanding what is 
said to them, Bayard Taylor says, 
*' I know of nothing more moving, 
indeed semi-tragic, than the yearning 
helplessness in the face of a dog who 
understands what is said to him and 
can not answer." 

Walter Savage Landor, irascible, 
conceited, tempestuous, had a deep 
affection for dogs, as well as all other 
dumb creatures, that was interesting. 
*' Of all the Louis Quatorze rhyme- 
sters I tolerate La Fontaine only, for 
I never see an animal, unless it be a 
parrot, a monkey, or a pug dog, or a 
serpent, that I do not converse with 
it either openly or secretly.'* 

The story of the noble martyr Gel- 
lert, who risked his own life for his 
master's child, only to be suspected 
and slain by the hand he loved so 
well, is perhaps too familiar to be re- 
peated, and yet I can not resist Spen- 
ser's version : 

The huntsman missed his faithful 
hound ; he did not respond to horn or 
cry. But at last as Llewelyn "• home- 



34 itt2 £iterars Zoo. 

ward hied ' the dog bounded to greet 
him, smeared with gore. On entering 
the house he found his child's couch 
also stained with blood, and the infant 
nowhere to be seen. Believing Gel- 
lert had devoured the boy, he plunged 
his sword in his side, but soon discov- 
ered the cherub alive and rosy, while 
beneath the couch, gaunt and tremen- 
dous, a wolf torn and killed : 

Ah, what was then Llewelyn's woe ! 

Best of thy kind, adieu. 
The frantic blow which laid thee low 

This heart shall ever rue. 

And now a gallant tomb they raise, 
With costly sculpture decked ; 

And marbles storied with his praise 
Poor Gellert's bones protect. 

There never could the spearman pass 

Or forester unmoved ; 
There oft the tear-besprinkled grass 

Llewelyn's sorrow proved. 

And there he hung his horn and spear, 

And there, as evening fell, 
In fancy's ear he oft would hear 

Poor Gellert's dying yell. 

And till great Snowdon's rocks grow old, 
And cease the storm to brave, 

The consecrated spot shall hold 
The name of ** Gellert's Grave.'* 



JDetJOteir to iDogs. 35 

Dr. John Brown*s exquisite prose 
poem of Rab and his Friends is as 
lasting a memorial to that dog as any 
built of granite or marble. The dog 
is emphatically the central figure, the 
hero of the story. The author sat for 
his picture with Rab by his side, and 
we are told that his interest in a half- 
blind and aged pet was evinced in the 
very last hours of his life. The dog 
has figured as the real attraction in 
several novels, and Ouida lets Puck 
tell his own story. Mrs. Stowe de- 
voted one volume to Stories about our 
Dogs, and wrote also A Dog*s Mis- 
sion. Matthew Arnold had many pets, 
and not only loved them in life, but 
has given them immortality by his ap- 
preciative tributes to dogs, and cat and 
canary. Here are two dog requiems : 

Geist's Grave. 

Four years, and didst thou stay above 

The ground, which hides thee now, but four ? 
And all that life, and all that love. 
Were crowded Geist, into no more. 

That loving heart, that patient soul. 

Had they indeed no longer span 
To run their course and reach their goal, 

And read their homily to man ? 



36 ittg Citerarg Zoo. 



Kaiser Dead. April 6, 1887. 

Kai's bracelet tail, Kai's busy feet. 

Were known to all the village street. 

** What, poor Kai dead ? " say all I meet ; 

"^'A loss indeed." 
Oh for the croon, pathetic, sweet. 

Of Robin's reed ! 

Six years ago I brought him down, 

A baby dog, from London town ; 

Kound his small throat of black and brown 

A ribbon blue, 
And touched by glorious renown 

A dachshund true. 

His mother most majestic dame, 

Of blood unmixed, from Potsdam came. 

And Kaiser's race we deemed the same — 

No lineage higher. 
And so he bore the imperial name ; 

But ah, his sire ! 

Soon, soon the day's conviction bring : 
The collie hair, the collie swing. 
The tail's indomitable ring. 

The eye's unrest — 
The case was clear ; a mongrel thing 

Kai stood confest. 

But all those virtues which commend 
The humbler sort who serve and tend. 
Were thine in store, thou faithful friend. 

What sense, what cheer. 
To us decHning tow'rd our end, 

A mate how dear ! 



?Ilet30teIr I0 Slogs. 37 

Thine eye was bright, thy coat it shone ; 
Thou hadst thine errands off and on ; 
In joy thy last morn flew ; anon 

A fit. All's over ; 
And thou art gone where Geist hath gone, 

And Toss and Rover. 

Well, fetch his graven collar fine. 
And rub the steel and make it shine. 
And leave it round thy neck to twine, 

Kai, in thy grave. 
There of thy master keep that sign 

And this plain stave. 

Miss Cobbe is a devoted, outspoken 
friend of all animals. She says : '' I 
have, indeed, always felt much affec- 
tion for dogs — that is to say, for those 
who exhibit the true dog character, 
which is far from being the case with 
every canine creature. Their sage- 
ness, their joyousness, their transpar- 
ent little wiles, their caressing and de- 
voted affection, are to me more win- 
ning — even, I may say', more really 
and intensely human (in the sense in 
which a child is human) — than the 
artificial, cold, and selfish characters 
one meets too often in the guise of 
ladies and gentlemen.'' 

She had a fluffy white dog she was 
extremely fond of, and has written sev- 



38 illg Citerarg Zoo. 

eral chapters on dogs, kindness to ani- 
mals, the horrors of vivisection, etc. 
Read False Hearts and True, The 
Confessions of a Lost Dog, and Sci- 
ence in Excelsis, and vou will realize 
how she appreciates the rights and the 
noble traits of the brute creation, and 
how her own great heart has gone out 
to her pets. She closes one article, 
Dogs whom I have Met, with these 
words : '* One thing I think must be 
clear : until a man has learned to feel 
for all his sentient fellow-creatures, 
whether in human or in brute form, 
of his own class and sex and country, 
or of another, he has not yet ascended 
the first step toward true civilization, 
nor applied the first lesson from the 
love of God.'* 

Edward Jesse, in his book, now rare 
and hard to obtain, on dogs, says, 
'' Histories afe more full of samples 
of the fidelity of dogs than of friends.'* 
A French writer declares that, except- 
ing women, there is nothing on earth 
so ao-reeable or so necessarv to the 
comfort of man as the dog. Think of 
the shepherd, his flock collected by 
his indefatigable dog. who guards 



OetJoteb to Dogs. 39 

both them and his master's cottage 
at night ; satisfied with a slight caress 
and coarsest food. The dog performs 
the service of a horse in more north- 
ern regions, while in Cuba and other 
hot countries is the terror of the run- 
away negroes. In destruction of wild 
beasts or the less dangerous stag, or 
in attacking the bull, the dog has 
shown permanent courage. He de- 
fends his master, saves from drown- 
ing, warns of danger, serves faithfully 
in poverty and distress, leads the blind. 
When spoken to, does his best to hold 
conversation bv tail, eves, ears ; drives 
cattle to and from pasture, keeps herds 
and flocks within bounds, points out 
game, brings shot birds, turns a spit, 
draws provision carts and sledges, 
likes or abhors music, detecting false 
notes instantly ; announces strangers, 
sounds a note of warning in danger, 
is the last to forsake the grave of a 
friend, sympathizes and rejoices with 
every mood of his master. The col- 
lie is the only dog who has a reputa- 
tion for piety, his liking to go to kirk 
and his proper behaviour there being 
well known. Whenever Stanislaus, the 



40 iltg Citeraru Zoo. 

unfortunate King of Poland, wrote to 
his daughter, he always concluded 
with ^' Tristram, my companion in 
misfortune, licks your feet." That 
one friend stuck by in his adversity. 
We see inherited tendencies in dogs 
as in children — what Paley calls '' a 
propensity previous to experience and 
independent of instruction " — as Saint 
Bernard puppies scratching eagerly 
at snow, and young pointers standing 
steadily on first seeing poultry ; a 
well-bred terrier pup will show fe- 
rocity. The anecdotes of achieve- 
ments of pet dogs are marvellous. 
Leibnitz related to the French Acad- 
emy an account of a dog he had seen 
which was taught to speak, and would 
call intelligibly for tea, coffee, choco- 
late, and made collections of white, 
shining stones. 

We read of dogs who know when 
Sunday comes ; who watch for the 
butcher's cart only at his stated time 
for appearance ; who will beg for a 
penny to buy a pie or bun, and then 
go to the baker's and purchase ; who 
exercise forethought and providence, 
burying bones for future need. Some 



iHetJOteb to JBogs. 41 

seem to have some moral sense, 
ashamed of stealing, sometimes mak- 
ing retribution, scolding puppies for 
stealing meat ; others are as depraved 
as human beings, slipping their collars 
and undoing the collar of another dog 
to go marauding, then returning, put 
their heads back into the collar.*^ 

Landseer's dogs used to pose for 
him with more patience than many 
other sitters. Some one said of him 
that he had ^' discovered the dog/' 
He was so devoted to them that when 
the wittiest of divines and divinest of 
wits (of course I mean Sydney Smith) 
was asked to sit to him, he replied, 
*' ^ Is thy servant a dog, that he should 
do this thing ? ' '* The artist spoke of 
a Newfoundland who had saved many 
from drowning as '' a distinguished 
member of the Humane Society/* 
Hamerton, in his charming Chapters 
on Animals, tells us stories, almost too 
wonderful for belief, of some French 
poodles who came to visit him. These 
canine guests played dominoes, sulked 

* Darwin said, " Since publishing The Descent of 
Man I have got to believe rather more than I did in 
dogs having what may be called a conscience." 



42 M'Q £iterar2 Zoo. 

when they had to draw from the bank, 
retired mortified when beaten ; also 
played cards, were skilful spellers in 
several languages, and quick in arith- 
metic. 

Each breed has its own defenders 
and adherents. Olive Thorne Miller 
usually writes of birds or odd pets ; 
but in Home Pets we find a most in- 
teresting tale of a collie, which she 
gives, to illustrate the characteristics 
of that family : 

** Nearly one hundred and fifty years 
ago, in the early days of our nation 
and during the French and Indian 
War, this collie was a great pet in 
the family of a colonial soldier, and 
was particularly noted for his antipa- 
thy to Indians, whom he delighted to 
track. On one campaign against the 
French the dog insisted on accompa- 
nying his master, although his feet 
were in a terrible condition, having 
been frozen. During the fight, which 
ended in the famous Braddock^s de- 
feat, the collie was beside his master, 
but when it was over they had be- 
come separated, and the soldier, con- 
cluding that his pet had been killed, 



Dettoteb to Dcgs. 43 

went home without him. Some weeks 
after, however, the dog appeared in 
his old home, separated from the bat- 
tlefield by many miles and thick for- 
ests. He was tired and worn, but 
over his feet were fastened neat moc- 
casins, showing that he had been 
among Indians, who had been kind 
to him. Moreover, he soon showed 
that he had changed his mind about 
his former foe, for neither bribes nor 
threats could ever induce him to track 
an Indian. His generous nature could 
not forget a kindness, even to please 
those he loved enough to seek under 
so great difficulties." 

This reminds me of several dog 
stories. 

The following interesting letter is 
published in the London Spectator : 

'' Being accustomed to walk out be- 
fore breakfast with two Skye terriers, 
it was my custom to wash their feet 
in a tub, kept for the purpose in the 
garden, whenever the weather was 
wet. One morning, when I took up 
the dog to carry him to the tub he bit 
me so severely that I was obliged to 
let him go. No sooner was the dog 
4 



44 itta Citerars Zoo. 

at liberty than he ran down to the 
kitchen and hid himself. For three 
days he refused food, declined to go 
out with any of the family, and ap- 
peared very dejected, with a dis- 
tressed and unusual expression of 
countenance. 

^' On the third morning, however, 
upon returning with the other dog, I 
found him sitting by the tub, and 
upon coming toward him he immedi- 
ately jumped into it and sat down in 
the water. After pretending to wash 
his legs, he jumped out as happy as 
possible, and from that moment re- 
covered his usual spirits. 

^' There appears in this instance to 
have been a clear process of reason- 
ing, accompanied by acute feeling, 
going on in the dog's mind from the 
moment he bit me until he hit upon 
a plan of showing his regret and 
making reparation for his fault. It 
evidently occurred to him that I 
attached great importance to this 
footbath, and if he could convince 
me that his contrition was sincere, 
and that he was willing to submit to 
the process without a murmur, I 



^cvoich t0 Dogs. 45 

should be satisfied. The dog, in this 
case, reasoned with perfect accuracy, 
and from his own premises deduced a 
leofitimate conclusion which the result 
justified." 

I like to read of the dog who waited 
on the town clerk of Amesbury for 
his license. '' The possessor of the dog 
in question is red -headed George 
Morrill, and red-headed George Mor- 
rills never (hardly ever) lie, and from 
him we learn the following facts: It 
appears that Mr. Morrill, who was 
busy at the time, and desired to have 
his pet properly licensed, wrote on 
a slip of paper as follows : ' Mr. Col- 
lins, please give me my license. 
Charlie.' Inclosing this, with two 
dollars, in an envelope, he gave it 
to the dog, telling him to go to Mr. 
Collins and get his license. On ar- 
riving at the town clerk's office he 
found Mr. Collins busy, and being a 
well-bred dog waited until the gentle- 
man was at liberty, when he made his 
presence known. Mr. Collins, observ- 
ing the envelope in his mouth, took it, 
and immediately the dog assumed a 
sitting posture, remaining thus until 



46 iHs Citerarg Zoo. 

the officer made out the proper 
license, and, inclosing this in an en- 
velope, handed it to his dogship, who 
instantly raised himself to his full 
length, making a bow with his head, 
and, coming down to his natural po- 
sition, wagged his tail satisfactorily 
and departed for home. The dog is 
well known on the street for his sa- 
gacity and intelligence, but this has 
rather capped any of his previous 
performances." 

One of the best stories about the in- 
telligence of dogs which has been told 
for some time was repeated a few days 
ago by an officer of the Pennsylvania 
Railroad Company. He said that one 
of the men in the passenger depart- 
ment had a dog that could tell the 
time of da}'. The owner of the dog 
had a fine clock in his office, and he 
got into the habit of making the dog 
tap with his paw at each stroke of the 
clock. After a while the dog did so 
without being told, and as the clock 
gave a little cluck just before striking, 
the dog would get into position, prick 
up his ears, and tap out the time. If 



JU^tJOteir to ^OQB. 47 

the clock had struck one and a little 
while afterward his owner imitated 
the preliminary cluck of the clock, 
the dog would give two taps with his 
paw, and so on for any hour. He 
knew just how the hours ran and how 
many taps to give for each one. 

We must of course believe a clergy- 
man's story of a dog, the Rev. C. J. 
Adams, in The Dog Fancier : 

** Not ' Tige,' concerning whom I 
have told a number of stories in this 
department. Tiger is another dog, 
and a fine fellow he is. His hair is 
short, and he is as black as night. I 
have met him but once, and that was 
at a clericus at the house of his mas- 
ter — the Rev. Peter Claude Creveling, 
at Cornwall, N. Y. He is probably 
four feet and a half long as to his 
body. He stands nearly as high as 
an ordinary table. He has a fine 
head — wonderfully large brain cham- 
bers. His eyes are extremely intel- 
ligent and expressive. His master 
loves him with a great, boisterous 
love characteristic of the man — who 
will be a great, attractive, lovable 
boy when he is eighty. I greet him, 



4^ iHs Citerarg Zoo. 

and hope that he may abide in the 
flesh till he is one hundred and 
eighty. But I took up my pen to 
write about the dog — not the master. 
The dog and the master are well 
mated. Tiger is the dog for the mas- 
ter, and Mr. Creveling is the master 
for the dog. We hardly ever meet 
but before we are through shaking 
hands Mr. Creveling begins telling 
me something about Tiger. This oc- 
curred, as usual, at a hotel where I 
was entertaining the clergy a month 
or so ago. The story was wonderful, 
and is vouched for by reliable wit- 
nesses. 

'' Tiger occupies the same room with 
Mr. and Mrs. Creveling at night. A 
sheet is spread for him on the floor 
beside the bed. They think as much 
of him as they would of a child. 
When he is restless during the night, 
Mr. Creveling will put his hand out 
and pat his head, speaking to him 
soothingly. During the day the sheet 
on which Tiger sleeps * o' nights ' is 
kept under a washstand. This much, 
that what follows may be understood. 
Now, on a certain Sunday Mr. and 



DcDoteb t0 Dogs. 49 

Mrs. Creveling, the young lady, and 
all other members of the household 
were away — excepting Tiger. He 
was left locked in the house. When 
they returned, and Mrs. Creveling 
went to her room, she found that 
Tiger had spent a good portion of 
the time of his incarceration in that 
room and on the bed. The bed was 
in a very tumbled and not very clean 
condition — the condition in which the 
occupancy of such a dog would natu- 
rally leave it — a condition which any 
careful housewife can easily imagine 
— and which she can not imagine 
without a shudder. Mrs. Creveling 
cried out. Mr. Creveling came run., 
ning. After him came Tiger. Mr. 
Creveling said : ^ Tiger, Tiger, see 
what you have done I You have 
ruined your missie's bed. Tiger, 
Tiger, I feel like crying ! ' Tiger's 
head and tail both dropped. With- 
out saying another word, Mr. Creve- 
ling went down stairs and into his 
study, threw himself on a large sofa, 
and covered his face and pretended 
to cry. Tiger, who had followed 
him, threw himself down on a rug 



so Ms Citerars Zoo. 

beside the sofa and cried too. Mr. 
Creveling had faith in the dog's in- 
telligence. He believed that he had 
learned a lesson. 

** Within a few days the family were 
all away again. Again Tiger was left 
in the house alone. When the family 
returned, Mrs. Creveling again went 
to her room. Tiger had been there 
again in her absence. He had again 
been on the bed. But Tiger's sheet — 
the one upon which he slept at night 
was there too. And the sheet was 
spread out, covering the bed. And 
there had been no one to spread out 
the sheet for Tiger. He had spread 
it out for himself. Is not here a dis- 
play of intelligence — of intelligence in 
activity in employment — of reason? 
What had Tiger done? He had put 
his nose under the washstand and 
pulled the sheet out. He had put 
the sheet on the bed. He had spi^ead 
the sheet out over the bed. What had 
been Tiger's train of thought? This, 
or something very much like it: *I 
want to lie on that bed because it re- 
minds me of my absent master and 
mistress. But I don't dare to do so. 



SJetJOteb to tDojs. 51 

I will give offence if I do so. I will 
be punished. Why am I not wanted 
to lie on the bed ? Because I soil it. 
What shall I do? There is the sheet 
— my sheet. They don't care if I lie 
on that. I will spread the sheet over 
the bed. What a great head I have ! ' 
The reader understands, of course, 
that I am not claiming that Tiger has 
sufficient command of the English lan- 
guage to even subjectively express 
himself as I have represented him. I 
have only tried to bring as strongly as 
possible to the reader's mind the fact 
that a train of thought must have 
passed through the dog's mind. And 
a train of thought could not pass 
through his mind if he hadn't a mind. 
Having a mind, then what ? He thinks. 
He reasons. What else ? If my mind 
is immortal why not Tiger's ? And re- 
member that I can prove the truth of 
every detail of this story by three 
witnesses — Mr. Creveling, his w^ife, 
and his wife's friend. No court 
would ask more." 

Jules Janin's dog made him a lit- 
erary man. His favourite walk was 



52 M^ Citerarg Zoo. 

in Luxembourg Garden, where he 
was delighted to see his dog gambol.. 
The dog made another dog's ac- 
quaintance, and they became so at- 
tached to each other that their masters 
were brought together and became 
friends. The new friend urged him 
to better his fortunes by writing for 
the newspapers, and introduced him 
to La Lorgnette, from which time he 
constantly rose. In 1828 he was ap- 
pointed dramatic critic of the Journal 
des Etats, and his popularity there 
lasted undiminished for twenty years. 

London has a home for lost and 
starving dogs, for the benefit of which 
a concert was recently given. Had 
Richard Wagner been alive, he would 
have doubtless bought a box for this 
occasion. One of the greatest sor- 
rows of his life was the temporary 
loss of his Newfoundland dog in Lon- 
don. 

Here is a quaint story which shows 
the gentle Elia in a most characteristic 
way : '' Just before the Lambs quitted 
the metropolis," says Pitman, '' they 
came to spend a day with me at Ful- 
ham and brought with them a com- 



Wcvotti to Dcgs. S3 

panion, who, dumb animal though he 
was, had for some time past been in 
the habit of giving play to one of 
Charles Lamb's most amiable charac- 
teristics — that of sacrificing his own 
feelings and inclinations to those of 
others. This was a large and very- 
handsome dog, of a rather curious 
and sagacious breed, which had be- 
longed to Thomas Hood, and at the 
time I speak of, and to oblige both 
dog and master, had been transferred 
to the Lambs, who made a great pet 
of him, to the entire disturbance and 
discomfiture, as it appeared, of all 
Lamb's habits of life, but especially 
of that most favourite and salutary of 
all — his long and heretofore solitary 
suburban walks ; for Dash — that was 
the dog's name — would never allow 
Lamb to quit the house without him, 
and when out, would never go any- 
where but precisely where it pleased 
himself. The consequence was, that 
Lamb made himself a perfect slave to 
this dog, who was always half a mile 
off from his companion, either before 
or behind, scouring the fields or roads 
in all directions, up and down 'all 



54 iflg Citerarg Zoo. 

manner of streets/ and keeping his 
attendant in a perfect fever of anxiety 
and irritation from his fear of losing 
him on the one hand, and his reluc- 
tance to put the needful restraint 
upon him on the other. Dash per- 
fectly well knew his host's amiable 
weakness in this respect, and took a 
doglike advantage of it. In the Re- 
gent's Park, in particular, Dash had 
his quasi -m3,ster completely at his 
mercy, for the moment they got with- 
in the ring he used to squeeze him- 
self through the railing and disappear 
for half an hour together in the then 
inclosed and thickly planted green- 
sward, knowing perfectly well that 
Lamb did not dare to move from 
the spot where he (Dash) had disap- 
peared, till he thought proper to show 
himself again. And they used to take 
this walk oftener than any other, pre- 
cisely because Dash liked it, and 
Lamb did not." 

Beecher said that ''in evolution, the 
dog got up before the door was shut.*' 
If there were not reason, mirthfulness, 
love, honour, and fidelity in a dog, he 
did not know where to look for them, 



Det)0teb to Dogs. S5 

And Huxley has devoted much atten- 
tion to the study of canine ability. He 
once illustrated, by the skeleton of the 
animal being raised on hind legs, that 
in internal construction the only dif- 
ference between man and dog was one 
of size and proportion. There was 
not a bone in one which did not exist 
in the other, not a single constituent 
in the one that was not to be found in 
the other, and by the same process he 
could prove that the dog had a mind. 
His own dog was certainly not a mere 
piece of animate machinery. He once 
possessed a dog which he frequently 
left among the thousands frequenting 
Regent's Park to secrete himself be- 
hind a tree. So soon as the animal 
found that he had lost his master, he 
laid his nose to the ground and soon 
tracked him to his hiding place. He 
believed there was no fundamental fac- 
ulty connected with the reasoning pow- 
ers that might not be demonstrated to 
exist in dogs. He did not believe that 
dogs ever took any pleasure in music ; 
but this seems not to be always the 
case. Adelaide Phillips, the famous 
contralto, told me that her splendid 



5 6 itta Citerarg Zoo. 

Newfoundland Csesar was quite a mu- 
sician. She gave him singing lessons 
regularly. '' I see him now/' she said, 
*' his fore paws resting on my knee. 
I would say : ' Now the lesson begins. 
Look at me, sir. Do as I do.' Then 
I would run down the scale in thirds, 
and Cassar, with head thrown back 
and swaying from side to side, would 
really sing the scale. He would sing 
the air of The Brook very correctly. 
But it was the best sport to see him 
attempt the operatic." Here her 
gestures became showy and impress- 
ive, as if on the stage, and her mim- 
icking of the dog's efforts to follow 
her were comical in the extreme. 
Sometimes (so quickly did he catch 
all the tricks of the profession) he 
would not sing until urged again and 
again. Sometimes he would be ''out 
of voice," and make most discordant 
sounds. He has an honoured grave 
at her country home in Marsh- 
field, where Webster also put up a 
stone in memory of his horse Great- 
heart. 

Charlotte Cushman loved animals, es- 
pecially dogs and horses ; and her blue 



Dct)0tc5 to Dogs. 57 

Skye terrier Bushie, with her human 
eyes and uncommon intelligence, has a 
permanent place in the memoirs of her 
mistress. Miss Cushman would say, 
" Play the piano, Bushie," and Bush 
knew perfectly well what was meant, 
and would go through the perform- 
ance, adding a few recitative barks 
with great gravity and eclat. The 
phrase *^ human eyes" recalls what 
Blackmore, the novelist — who has a 
genuine, loving appreciation of our 
dear dumb animals — says of a dog 
in Christowell : *' No lady in the land 
has eyes more lucid, loving, eloquent, 
and even if she had, they would be as 
nothing without the tan spots over 
them." 

Patti has many pets, and always 
takes some dog with her on her trav- 
els, causing great commotion at ho- 
tels. She also leaves many behind 
her as a necessity. She has an aviary 
at her castle in Wales, and owns sev- 
eral most loquacious parrots. 

Miss Mitford's gushing eulogy upon 
one of her numerous dogs is too ex- 
travagant to be quoted at length : 
"There never was such a dog. His 



58 iHs £iterars H00. 



temper was, beyond comparison, the 
sweetest ever known. Nobody ever 
saw him out of humour, and his sa- 
gacity was equal to his temper. . . . 
I shall miss him every moment of my 
life. We covered his dead body with 
flowers ; every flower in the garden. 
Everybody loved him, dear saint, as 
I used to call him, and as I do not 
doubt he now is. Heaven bless him, 
beloved angel I " 

Mr. Fields writes : *' Miss Mitford 
used to write me long letters about 
Fanchon, a dog whose personal ac- 
quaintance I had made some time 
before while on a visit to her cottage. 
Every virtue under heaven she at- 
tributed to that canine individual, 
and I was obliged to allow in m}^ 
return letters that since our planet 
began to spin nothing comparable 
to Fanchon had ever run on four 
legs." 

Mrs. Browning was fond of pets, 
especially of her dog Flush, presented 
by Miss Mitford, which she has im- 
mortalized in a sonnet and a long and 
exquisite poem : 



Deooteb to Dogs. 59 



Flush or Faunus. 

You see this dog. It was but yesterday 

I mused forgetful of his presence here ; 

Till thought on thought drew downward tear on 

tear; 
When from the pillow, w^here wet-cheeked I lay, 
A head as hairy as Faunus' thrust its way 
Right sudden against my face, two golden, 

clear, 
Great eyes astonished mine ; a drooping ear 
Did flap me on either cheek to dry the spray. 
I started first ; as some Arcadian 
Amazed by goatly god in twilight grove ; 
But as the bearded vision closelier ran 
My tears off, I knew Flush, and rose above 
Surprise and sadness ; thanking the true Pan 
Who by low creatures leads to heights of love. 

The poem is equally beautiful : 

To Flush, my Dog. 

Other dogs may be thy peers 

Haply in these drooping ears 

And this glossy fairness. 

But of thee it shall be said. 
This dog watched beside a bed 

Day and night unweary ; 
Watched within a curtained room. 
Where no sunbeam brake the gloom 

Round the sick and weary. 
5 



6o ittg Citcrarn ^00, 

Roses gathered for a vase 
In that chamber died apace. 

Beam and breeze resigning ; 
This dog only waited on, 
Knowing that when light is gone 

Love remains for shining. 

Other dogs in thymy dew 

Tracked the hares and followed through 

Sunny moor or meadow ; 
This dog only crept and crept 
Next a languid cheek that slept, 

Sharing in the shadow. 

Other dogs of loyal cheer 
Bounded at the whistle clear. 

Up the woodside hieing ; 
This dog only watched in reach 
Of a faintly uttered speech. 

Or a louder sighing. 

And if one or two quick tears 
Dropped upon his glossy ears. 

Or a sigh came double, 
Up he sprang in eager haste, 
Fawning, fondling, breathing fast 

In a tender trouble. 

And this dog was satisfied 

If a pale, thin hand would glide 

Down his dewlaps sloping. 
Which he pushed his nose within, 
After platforming his chin 

On the palm left open. 



This dog, if a friendly voice 
Call him now to blither choice 

Than such chamber keeping, 
"Come out/' praying from the door, 
Presseth backward as before. 

Up against me leaping. 

Therefore to this dog will I, 
Tenderly, not scornfully, 

Render praise and favour ; 
With my hand upon his head, 
Is my benediction said. 

Therefore and forever. 

Mrs. Browning said in a note to this 
poem : '' This dog was the gift of my 
dear and admired friend, Miss Mit- 
ford, and belongs to the beautiful race 
she has rendered celebrated among 
English and American readers." 

Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, ad- 
dressed a long poem to his dog, end- 
ing: 

When my last bannock's on the hearth, 
Of that thou canna want thy share ; 

While I ha'e house or hauld on earth, 
My Hector shall ha'e shelter there. 

Another favourite was honoured 
by Dr. Holland, the essayist, lecturer, 
rhagazine editor, and poet : 



62 iJIg Citerarg Zoo. 



To MY Dog Blanco. 

My dear, dumb friend, low lying there, 

A willing vassal at my feet, 
Glad partner of my home and fare, 

My shadow in the street. 

I look into your great brown eyes, 
Where love and loyal homage shine, 

And w^onder where the difference lies 
Between your soul and mine ! 

Tor all of good that I have found 
Within myself or human kind, 

Hath royally informed and crowned 
Your gentle heart and mind. 

I scan the whole broad earth around 
For that one heart which, leal and true. 

Bears friendship without end or bountl, 
And find the prize in you. 

I trust you as I trust the stars ; 

Nor cruel loss, nor scoff of pride. 
Nor beggary, nor dungeon bars. 

Can move you from my side ! 

As patient under injury 

As any Christian saint of old. 

As gentle as a lamb with me. 
But with your brothers bold ; 

More playful than a frolic boy, 
]\Iore watchful than a sentinel. 

By day and night your constant joy 
To guard and please me well. 



^cvoich t0 ?D0gs- 63 

I clasp your head upon my breast — 
The while you whine and lick my hand — 

And thus our friendship is confessed, 
And thus we understand ! 

Ah, Blanco ! did I worship God 

As truly as you worship me. 
Or follow where my Master trod 

With your humility — 

Did I sit fondly at his feet, 
As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine. 

And watch him with a love as sweet, 
My life would grow divine ! 

Maria Edgeworth wrote to her aunt, 
Mrs. Ruxton, in 18 19, '' I see my little 
dog on your lap, and feel your hand 
patting his head, and hear your voice 
telling him that it is for Maria's sake 
he is there.*' 

What a pathetic friendship existed 
between Emily Bronte and the dog 
whom she was sure could understand 
every word she said to him ! *' She al- 
ways fed the animals herself ; the old 
cat; Flossy, her favourite spaniel; 
Keeper, the fierce bulldog, her own 
constant dear companion, whose por- 
trait, drawn by her own spirited hand, 
is still extant. And the creatures on 



64 ills Citerarg Zoo. 

the moor were all in a sense her pets 
and familiar with her. The intense 
devotion of this silent woman to all 
manner of dumb creatures has some- 
thing almost inexplicable. As her old 
father and her sisters followed her to 
the grave they were joined by another 
mourner, Keeper, Emily's dog. He 
walked in front of all, first in the rank 
of mourners, and perhaps no other 
creature had loved the dead woman 
quite so well. When they had laid 
her to sleep in the dark, airless vault 
under the church, and when they had 
crossed the bleak churchyard and had 
entered the empty house again, Keeper 
went straight to the door of the room 
where his mistress used to sleep, and 
laid down across the threshold. There 
he howled piteously for many days, 
knowing not that no lamentations 
could wake her any more." 

Dogs were supposed by the ancient 
Gaels to know of the death of a friend, 
however far they might be separated. 
But this is getting too gloomy. Do 
you know how the proverb originated 
*'as cold as a dog's nose"? An old 
verse tells us : 



Dcvouh to Dogs. 65 

There sprang a leak in Xoah's ark, 
Which made the dog begin to bark ; 
Noah took his nose to stop the hole, 
And hence his nose is always cold. 

No one has expressed more apprecia- 
tion of the noble qualities of dogs than 
the abstracted, philosophic Words- 
worth. 

Incident 

Characteristic of a Favourite Dog, 

On his morning rounds the master 

Goes to learn how all things fare ; 
Searches pasture after pasture, 

Sheep and cattle eyes with care ; 
And, for silence or for talk, 
He hath comrades in his walk ; 
Four dogs, each pair of different breed, 
Distinguished two for scent and two for speed. 

See a hare before him started ! 
Off they fly in earnest chase ; 
Every dog is eager-hearted, 

All the four are in the race : 
And the hare whom they pursue. 
Hath an instinct what to do ; 
Her hope is near : no turn she makes ; 
But, like an arrow, to the river takes. 

Deep the river was, and crusted 

Thinly by a one night's frost ; 
But the nimble hare hath trusted 

To the ice, and safelv crost ; 



(>(> in^ Citetata Zoo. 

She hath crossed, and without heed 

All are following at full speed, 
When, lo ! the ice, so thinly spread. 
Breaks — and the greyhound, Dart, is over head ! 

Better fate have Prince and Swallow — 

See them cleaving to the sport ! 
Music has no heart to follow. 

Little Music, she stops short. 
She hath neither wish nor heart. 
Hers is now another part : 
A loving creature she, and brave ! 
And fondly strives her struggling friend to save. 

From the brink her paws she stretches, 

Very hands as you would say ! 
And afflicting moans she fetches, 

As he breaks the ice away. 
For herself she hath no fears, 
Him alone she sees and hears. 
Makes efforts and complainings ; nor gives o*er 
Until her fellow sank, and reappeared no more. 

Tribute 

To the Memory of the Same Dog, 
Lie here, without a record of thy worth, 
Beneath a covering of the common earth ! 
It is not from unwillingness to praise, 
Or want of love, that here no stone we raise ; 
More thou deservest ; but this man gives to man, 
Brother to brother, this is all we can. 
Yet they to whom thy virtues made thee dear 
Shall find thee through all changes of the year : 
This oak points out thy grave ; the silent tree 
Will gladly stand a monument of thee. 



l3eD0teb t0 Doge. 67 

Cowper, who tenderly loved all ani- 
mals, did not fail to honour a dog with 
a poetical tribute in The Dog and the 
Water Lily, celebrating the devotion 
of "my spaniel, prettiest of his race.'* 

It was the time when Ouse displayed 

His lilies newly blown ; 
Their beauties I intent surveyed, 

And one I wished my own. 

With cane extended far, I sought 

To steer it close to land ; 
But still the prize, though nearly caught, 

Escaped my eager hand. 

Beau marked my unsuccessful pains 
With fixed, considerate face, 

And puzzling set his puppy brains 
To comprehend- the case. 

But chief myself, I will enjoin, 

Awake at duty's call. 
To show a love as prompt as thine 

To Him who gives us all. 

But with a chirrup clear and strong. 

Dispersing all his dream, 
I thence withdrew, and followed long 

The windings of the stream. 

My ramble finished, I returned. 

Beau, trotting far before. 
The floating wreath again discerned, 

And, plunging, left the shore. 



68 ills Citerarj! Zoo. 

I saw him, with that lily cropped, 

Impatient swim to meet 
My quick approach, and soon he dropped 

The treasure at my feet. 

Charmed with this sight, the world, I cried. 
Shall hear of this, thy deed : 

My dog shall mortify the pride 
Of man's superior breed. 

Forster tells us fully of Dickens's 
devotion to his many dogs, quoting 
the novelist's inimitable way of de- 
scribing his favourites. In Dr. Mari- 
gold there is an especially good bit 
about *'me and my dog.'' 

'' My dog knew as well as I did when 
she was on the turn. Before she broke 
out he would give a howl and bolt. 
How he knew it was a mystery to 
me, but the sure and certain knowl- 
edge of it would wake him up out of 
his soundest sleep, and would give a 
howl and bolt. At sich times I wished 
I was him." After the death of child 
and wife, he says : '' Me and my dog 
was all the company left in the cart 
now, and the dog learned to give a 
short bark when they wouldn't bid, 
and to give another and a nod of his 
head when I asked him ' Who said 



?IletJ0Ub to SUogs. 6^ 

half a crown?' He attained to an 
immense height of popularity, and, I 
shall always believe, taught himself 
entirely out of his own head to growl 
at any person in the crowd that bid 
as low as sixpence. But he got to be 
well on in years, and one night when 
I was convulsing York with the spec- 
tacles he took a convulsion on his own 
account, upon the very footboard by 
me, and it finished him.'* 

Mr. Laurence Hutton, in the St. 
Nicholas, has lately expressed his sen- 
timents about dogs, as follows : 

*' It was Dr. John Brown, of Edin- 
burgh, I think, who spoke in sincere 
sympathy of the man who *' led a dog- 
less life." It was Mr. ''Josh Billings," 
I know, who said that in the whole 
history of the world there is but one 
thing that money can not buy — to wit, 
the wag of a dog's tail. And it was 
Prof. John C. Van Dyke who declared 
the other day, in reviewing the artistic 
career of Landseer, that he made his 
dogs too human. It was the great 
Creator himself who made dogs too 
human — so human that sometimes 
they put humanity to shame. 



70 illB £Uerarg S00. 

'' I have been the friend and confidant 
of three dogs, who helped to human- 
ize me for the space of a quarter of a 
century, and who had souls to be 
saved, I am sure, and when I cross 
the Stygian River I expect to find on 
the other shore a trio of dogs wag- 
ging their tails almost off in their joy 
at my coming, and with honest tongues 
hanging out to lick my hands and my 
feet. And then I am going, with these 
faithful, devoted dogs at my heels, to 
talk dogs over with Dr. John Brown, 
Sir Edward Landseer, and Mr. Josh 
Billings." 

Do dogs have souls — a spark of 
life that after death lives on else- 
where? 

Many have hoped so, from Wesley 
to the little boy who has lost his cher- 
ished comrade. 

It is certain that dogs show qualities 
that in a man would be called reason, 
quick apprehension, presence of mind, 
courage, self-abnegation, affection unto 
death. 

At the close of this chapter may I 
be allowed to tell of two of my special 



Det)0te5 to Dogs. 7^ 

friends — one a fox terrier, owned by 
Mr. Howard Ticknor, of Boston ; the 
other my own interesting pet — who 
have never failed to learn any trick 
suggested to them ? Antoninus Pius, 
called Tony for short, goes through 
more than a score of wonderful ac- 
complishments, such as playing on 
the piano, crossing his paws and look- 
ing extremely artistic, if not inspired, 
dancing a skirt dance, spinning on a 
flax wheel, performing on a tambour- 
ine swung by a ribbon round his 
neck ; plays pattycake wuth his mis- 
tress. And my ow^n intelligent York- 
shire terrier mounts a chair back and 
preaches with animation, eloquence, 
and forcible gestures ; knocks down 
a row of books and then sits on them, 
as a book reviewer; stands in a cor- 
ner with right paw uplifted, as a ta- 
bleau of Liberty enlightening the 
World ; rings a bell repeatedly and 
with increasing energy, to call us to 
the table ; sings with head and eyes 
uplifted, to accompaniment of har- 
monica — and each is just beginning 
his education. 

I have read lately an account of a 



72 illg fiiterars Zoo. 

knowing dog, with a sort of sharp 
cockney ability, who used to go daily 
with penny in mouth and buy a roll. 
Once one right out of the oven was 
given to him ; he dropped it, seized 
his money off the counter, and changed 
his baker. 



COMPLIMENTS TO CATS. 

You may own a cat, but cannot govern one. 

TO A KITTEN, 

But not alone by cottage fire 

Do rustics rude thy feats admire ; 

The learned sage, whose thoughts explore 

The widest range of human lore ; 

Or, with unfettered fancy fly 

Through airy heights of poesy ; 

Pausing, smiles with altered air 

To see thee climb his elbow-chair, 

Or, struggling with the mat below. 

Hold warfare with his slippered toe. 

Joanna Baillie. 
73 



CATS. 

God made the cat in order to give to man the 
pleasurable sense of having caressed the tiger. 

Mery. 

Public sentiment is not so unani- 
mously in favour of cats, yet they 
have had their warm admirers, while 
in Egypt they were adored as divine 
— worshipped as an emblem of the 
moon. When a cat died, the owners 
gave the body a showy funeral, went 
into mourning, and shaved off their 
eyebrows. Diodorus tells of a Ro- 
man soldier who was condemned to 
death for killing a cat. It is said that 
Cambyses, King of Persia, when he 
went to fight the Egyptians, fastened 
before every soldier's breast a live cat. 
Their enemies dared not run the risk 
of hurting their sacred pets, and so 
were conquered. 

Artists, monarchs, poets, diploma- 

6 75 



76 iHa £iterars Zoo. 

tists, religious leaders, authors, have 
all condescended to care for cats. A 
mere list of their names would make 
a big book. For instance, Godefroi 
Mind, a German artist, was called the 
Raphael of Cats. People would hunt 
him up in his attic, and pay large 
prices for his pictures. In the long 
winter evenings he amused himself 
carving tiny cats out of chestnuts, 
and could not make them fast enough 
for those who wanted to buy. Mo- 
hammed was so fond of his cat Mu- 
ezza that once, when she was sleep- 
ing on his sleeve, he cut off the sleeve 
rather than disturb her. Andrew Do- 
ria, one of the rulers of Venice, not 
only had a portrait painted of his pet 
cat, but after her death had her skele- 
ton preserved as a treasure. Riche- 
lieu's special favourite was a splendid 
Angora, his resting place being the 
table covered with state papers. Mon- 
taigne used to rest himself by a frolic 
with his cat. Fontenelle liked to 
place his ^' Tom '' in an armchair and 
deliver an oration before him. The 
cat of Cardinal Wolsey sat by his side 
when he received princes. Petrarch 



€aiB. 77 

had his pet feline embalmed and 
placed in his apartment. 

You see, the idea of the cat being 
the pet of old maids alone is far from 
true. Edward Lear, of Nonsense 
Verses fame, wrote of himself : 

He has many friends, laymen and clerical ; 

Old Foss is the name of his cat ; 
His body is perfectly spherical ; 

He weareth a runcible hat. 

Wordsworth wrote about a Kitten 
and the Falling Leaves. A volume 
of two hundred and eighty-five pages 
of poems in all languages, consecrated 
to the memory of a single cat, was 
published at Milan in 1741. Shelley 
wrote verses to a cat. 

It seems unjust to assert that the cat 
is incapable of personal attachment, 
when she has won the affection of so 
many of earth's great ones. The skull 
of Morosini's cat is preserved among 
the relics of that Venetian worthy. 
Andrea Doria's cat was painted with 
him. Sir Henry Wyat's gratitude to 
the cat who saved him from starva- 
tion in the Tower of London by bring- 
ing him pigeons to eat, caused this re- 
mark : '' You shall not find his picture 



7 3 iHg £iterar2 Zoo. 

anywhere but with a cat beside him/' 
Cowper often wrote about his cats 
and kittens. Horace Walpole wrote to 
Gray, mourning the loss of his hand- 
somest cat, and Gray replied : '' I 
know Zara and Zerlina, or rather I 
knew them both together, for I can 
not justly say which w^as which. 
Then, as to your handsomest cat, I 
am no less at a loss ; as well as know- 
ing one's handsomest cat is always the 
cat one likes best, or, if one be alive 
and the other dead, it is usually the 
latter that is handsomest. Besides, if 
the point were so clear, I hope you 
do not think me so ill bred as to for- 
get my interest in the survivor — oh, 
no ! I w^ould rather seem to mistake, 
and imagine, to be sure, that it must 
be the tabby one." It was the tabby ; 
her death being sudden and pitiful, 
tumbling from a '' lofty vase's side '* 
while trying to secure a goldfish for 
her dinner. Gray sent Walpole an 
ode inspired by the misfortune, in 
which he said : 

What woman's heart can gold despise ? 
What cat's averse to fish ? 

and thus describes the final scene: 



ffiats. 79 

Ei^ht times emerging from the flood, 
She mewed to every water}^ god 

Some speedy aid to send. 
No dolphin came, no Nereid stirred, 
Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard. 

A favourite has no friend. 

Upon Gray's death, Walpole placed 
Zerlina's vase upon a pedestal marked 
with the first stanza. 

Jeremy Bentham at first christened 
his cat Langbourne ; afterward, Sir 
John Langbourne ; and when very 
wise and dignified, the Rev. Sir John 
Langbourne, D. D. Pius IX allowed 
his cat to sit with him at table, w^ait- 
ing his turn to be fed in a most de- 
corous manner. Theophile Gautier 
tells us how beautifully his cats be- 
haved at the dinner table. A friend 
visiting Bishop Thirlwall in his retire- 
ment, thought he looked weary, and 
asked him to take the big easy-chair. 
'' Don't you see w^ho is already there ? " 
said the great churchman, pointing to 
a cat asleep on the cushion. '' She 
must not be disturbed." Helen Hunt 
Jackson devoted a large book to the 
praise of cats and kittens. We know 
that Isaac Newton was fond of cats, 



8o iSlg Citerarg Zoo. 

for did he not make two holes in his 
barn door — a big one for old pussy to 
go in and out, and a little one for the 
kitty ? 

Among French authors we recall 
Rousseau, who has much to say in 
favour of felines. Colbert reared half 
a dozen cats in his study, and taught 
them many interesting tricks. The 
cat supplied Perrault with one of the 
most attractive subjects of his stories, 
and under the magical pen of this ad- 
mirable story-teller. Puss in Boots has 
become an example of the power of 
work, industry, and savoir-faire, Gau- 
tier scoffs at storms raging without, 
as long as he has 

Sur mes genoux un chat qui se joue et folatre, 
Un livre pour veiller, un fauteil pour devenir. 

Beranger, in his idyl The Cat, makes 
an intelligent cat a go-between of lov- 
ers. Baudelaire returned from his 
wanderings in the East a devotee of 
cats, and addressed to them several 
fine bits of verse ; they are seen in 
his poetry, as dogs in the paintings 
of Paul Veronese. Here is a sam- 
ple: 



dLate. 8 1 

Come, beauty, rest upon my loving heart. 
But cease thy paws' sharp-nailed play. 

And let me peer into those eyes that dart 
Mixed agate and metallic ray. 

Again : 

Grave scholars and mad lovers all admire 
And love, and each alike, at his full tide 
Those suave and puissant cats, the fireside's 
pride, 

Who like the sedentary life and glow of fire. 

How he enjoys, nay, revels in the 
musical purr! — 

Those tones which purl and percolate 
Deep down into my shadowy soul, 
Exalt me like a fine tune's roll, 

And yield the joy love philters make. 

There is no note in the w^orld, 
Nor perfect instrument I know, 
Can lift my heart to such a glow 

And set its vibrant chord in whirl. 

As thy rich voice mysterious. 

Champflieury, another French writer, 
has recorded that, visiting Victor Hugo 
once, he found, in a room decorated 
with tapestries and Gothic furniture, a 
cat enthroned on a dais, and apparent- 
ly receiving the homage of the com- 
pany. Sainte-Beuve's cat sat on his 
desk, and walked freely over his crit- 



82 iHg jLiterara Zoo. 

ical essays. '' I value in the cat/' says 
Chateaubriand, '' that indifferent and 
almost ungrateful temper which pre- 
vents itself from attaching itself to 
any one ; the indifference with which 
it passes from the sa/on to the house- 
top/* Marshal Turenne amused him- 
self for hours in playing with his kit- 
tens. The great general, Lord Heath- 
field, would often appear on the walls 
of Gibraltar at the time of the famous 
siege, attended by his favourite cats. 
Montaigne wrote : ^' When I play with 
my cat, who knows whether I do not 
make her more sport than she makes 
me ? We mutually divert each other 
with our play. If I have my hour to 
begin or refuse, so has she.'' As 
George Eliot puts it, '' Who can tell 
what just criticisms the cat may be 
passing on us beings of wider specu- 
lation ? '' Chateaubriand's cat Micette 
is well known. He used to stroke her 
tail, to notify Madame Recamier that 
he was tired or bored. 

Cats and their friendships are not 
spoken of in the Bible. But they are 
mentioned in Sanskrit writing two 
thousand years old, and, as has been 



(Eats. Ss 

said before, they were household pets 
and almost idols with the Egyptians, 
who mummied them in company with 
kings and princes. They were also 
favourites in India and Persia, and 
can claim relationship with the royal 
felines of the tropics. Simonides, in 
his Satire on Women, the earliest ex- 
tant, sets it down that froward women 
were made from cats, just as most vir- 
tuous, industrious matrons were de- 
veloped from beer. In Mills's His- 
tory of the Crusades the cat was an 
important personage in religious fes- 
tivals. At Aix, in Provence, the finest 
he cat was wrapped like a child in 
swaddling clothes and exhibited in a 
magnificent shrine : every knee bent, 
every hand strewed flowers. 

Several cats have been immortalized 
by panegyrics and epitaphs from fa- 
mous masters. Joachim de Bellay has 
left this pretty tribute : 

C'est Beland, mon petit chat gris — 
Beland, qui fut peraventure 
Le plus bel oeuvre que nature 
Fit one en matiere de chats. 

The pensive Selima, owned by Wal- 
pole, was mourned by Gray, and from 



84 ills Citerarg Zoo. 

the Elegy we get the favourite apho- 
rism, *'A favourite has no friends." 
Arnold mourned the great Atossa. 
One of Tasso's best sonnets was ad- 
dressed to his favourite cat. Cats 
figure in literature from Gammer 
Gurton's Needle to our own day. 
Shakespeare mentions the cat forty- 
four times — '' the harmless, necessary 
cat," etc. Goldsmith wrote : 

Around in sympathetic mirth 

Its tricks the kitten tries ; 
The cricket chirrups in the hearth, 

The crackling fagot flies. 

Joanna Baillie wrote in the same 
strain. 

In one of Gay's fables about ani- 
mals the cat is asked what she can 
do to benefit the proposed confedera- 
tion. She answers scornfully : 

. . . These teeth, these claws, 
With vigilance shall serve the cause. 
The mouse destroyed by my pursuit 
No longer shall your feasts pollute, 
Nor eat, from nightly ambuscade 
With watchful teeth your stores invade. 

The story of Dick Whittington and 
his cat is doubtless true. All the pic- 
torial and architectural relics of Whit- 



Cats. 85 

tington represent him with the cat — 
a black and white cat — at his left hand, 
or his hand resting on a cat. One of 
the figures that adorned the gate at 
Newgate represented Liberty with the 
figure of a cat lying at her feet. Whit- 
tington was a former founder. In the 
cellar of his old house at Gloucester 
there was found a stone, probably part 
of a chimney, showing in basso-rilievo 
the figure of a boy carrying in his 
arms a cat. Cowper has a poem on A 
Cat retired from Business. Heinrich's 
verses are well known, or should be : 

The neighbours' old cat often 

Came to pay us a visit. 
We made her a bow and a courtesy, 

Each with a compliment in it. 

After her health we asked, 

Our care and regard to evince ; 

We have made the very same speeches 
To many an old cat since. 

This translation was by Mrs. Brown- 
ing ; many others have tried it with 
success. Alfred de Musset apostro- 
phized his cats in verse. Paul de 
Koch frequently describes a favour- 
ite cat in his novels. Hoffman, the 
German novelist, introduces cats into 



S6 iJlg Citcrarg Zoo. 

his weird and fantastic tales, and Poe 
has given us The Black Cat. Keats 
composed a 

Sonnet to a Cat : 

Cat, who has passed thy grand climacteric, 
How many mice and rats hast in thy days 
Destroyed ? How many tidbits stolen ? Gaze 
With those bright languid segments green, and 

prick 
Those velvet ears, but pr}^thee do not stick 
Thy latent talons in me, and tell me all thy frays. 
Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick ; 
Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists, 
For all thy wheezy asthma, and for all 
Thy tail's tip is nicked off, and though the fists 
Of many a maid have given thee many a maul, 
Still is thy fur as when the lists 
In youth thou enteredst on glass-bottled wall. 

Clinton ScoUard writes tenderly of 
his lost 

Grimalkin: 

An Elegy on Peter ^ aged Twelve, 

In vain the kindly call ; in vain 

The plate for which thou once wast fain 

At morn and noon and daylight's wane, 

O king of mousers. 
No more I hear thee purr and purr 
As in the frolic days that were. 
When thou didst rub thy velvet fur 

Against my trousers. 



€atQ. 87 

How empty are the places where 
Thou erst wert frankly debonair, 
Nor dreamed a dream of feline care, 

A capering kitten. 
The sunny haunts where, grown a cat, 
You pondered this, considered that, 
The cushioned chair, the rug, the mat. 

By firelight smitten. 

Although of few thou stood 'st in dread, 
How w^ell thou knew'st a friendly tread, 
And what upon thy back or head 

The stroking hand meant ! 
A passing scent could keenly wake 
Thy eagerness for chop or steak. 
Yet, puss, how rarely didst thou break 

The eighth commandment ! 

Though brief thy life, a little span 
Of days compared with that of man, 
The time allotted to thee ran 

In smoother meter. 
Now with the warm earth o'er thy breast, 
O wisest of thy kind and best, 
Forever mayst thou softly rest, 

In pace — Peter. 

Agnes Repplier, in her Essays in 
Idleness and Dozy Hours, tells us of 
Agrippina and her child. Charles 
Dudley Warner gave to the world a 
character sketch of his cat Calvin. 

A young girl who was in the house 
with Mr. Whittier, and of whom he 



88 iJls £iterara Zoo. 

was very fond, went to him one day 
with tearful eyes and a rueful face and 
said : '' My dear little kitty Bathsheba 
is dead, and I want you to write a 
poem to put on her gravestone. I 
shall bury her under a rose bush ! '' 
Without a moment's hesitation the 
poet said : 

Bathsheba ! to whom none ever said scat ! 
No worthier cat 
Ever sat on a mat 
Or caught a rat ; 
Requiescat ! 

Cats are made very useful. The 
English Government keeps cats in 
public offices, dockyards, stores, ship- 
ping, and so on. In Vienna, four cats 
are employed by town magistrates to 
catch mice on the premises of the mu- 
nicipality with a regular allowance, 
voted for their keeping, during active 
service, afterward placed on the re- 
tired list with comfortable pension ; 
much better cared for than college 
professors or superannuated ministers 
in our country. There are a certain 
number of cats in the United States 
Post Office to protect mail bags from 
rats and mice; also, in the Imperial 



Printing Office in France, a feline staff 
with a keeper. Cats are given charge 
of empty corn sacks, so that they shall 
not be nibbled and devoured. Cats 
are invaluable to farmers in barns and 
outhouses, stables, and newly mown 
fields. 

There are many proverbs about the 
cat. Shakespeare says, 

Letting I dare not wait upon I would. 
Like the poor cat i' the adage, 

meaning, expressed in another proverb. 

The cat loves fish, but does not like 
To wet her paws. 

Good liquor will make a cat speak. 

Not room to swing a cat. 

They used to swing a cat to the branch 
of a tree as a mark to shoot at. 

Honest as the cat when the meal is out of 
reach. 

Let the cat out of the bag. 

A cat was sometimes substituted for a 
sucking pig, and carried in a bag to 
market. If a greenhorn chose to buy 
without examination, very well ; but if 
he opened the bag the trick was dis- 



90 iH2 Citerara Zoo, 

covered, and he '' let the cat out of 
the bag." 

Sick as a cat. 

Touch not a cat without a glove. 

What can you have of a cat but her skin ? 

To be made a cat's paw of, 

referring to the fable of the monkey 
who took the paw of a cat to get some 
roasted chestnuts from the hot ashes. 

Who is to bell the cat ? 

alluding to the cunning old mouse who 
suggested that they should hang a bell 
on the cat's neck to let all mice know 
of her approach. *^ Excellent,'* said a 
wise young mouse, ''but who will un- 
dertake the job? " 

Madame Henriette Ronner has given 
up half of her long artistic career to the 
study of cats, producing a cat world as 
impressive as the cattle world of Potter 
or the stag and dog world of Landseer. 
Harrison Weirs is one of Pussy's most 
devoted adherents. He originated cat 
shows at Crystal Palace, London. He 
says that dogs, large or small, are gen- 
erally useless ; while a cat, whether 
petted or not, is of service. Without 



Cats. 91 

her, rats and mice would overrun the 
house. If there were not millions of 
cats there would be billions of vermin. 
He believes that cats are more critical 
in noticing than dogs, as he has seen a 
cat open latched doors and push back 
bolt or bar; they will wait for the 
butcher, hoping for bits of meat, look- 
ing for him only on his stated days, 
and know the time for the luncheon 
bell to ring. Dogs often bite when 
angry ; cats seldom. They will travel 
a long distance to regain home; form 
devoted attachments to other animals, 
as horses, cocks, collies, cows, hens, 
rabbits, squirrels, and even rats, and 
can be taught to respect the life of 
birds. 

Exactly opposite opinions are held 
by others, equally good and fair judges, 
and with these the cat is considered self- 
ish, spiteful, crafty, treacherous, and, 
like a low style of politician, subservi- 
ent only to the power that feeds them, 
and provides a warm berth to snuggle 
down in. And we find many anecdotes, 
well authenticated, proving them to 
be docile, affectionate, good-tempered, 
tractable, and even possessed of some- 
7 



92 iHp Citerarg Zoo. 

thing very like intellect. In the life of 
Sir David Brewster, by his daughter, 
we find that a cat in the house entered 
his room one day and made friend- 
ship in the most affectionate manner ; 
*' looked straight at him, jumped on 
my father's knee, placed a paw on 
each shoulder, and kissed him as dis- 
tinctly as a cat could. From that time 
the philosopher himself provided her 
breakfast every morning from his own 
plate, till one day she disappeared, to 
the unbounded sorrow of her master. 
Nothing was heard of her for nearly 
two years, when Pussy walked into 
the house, neither thirsty nor footsore, 
made her way without hesitation to 
the study, jumped on my father's knee, 
placed a paw on each shoulder and 
kissed him, exactly as on the first 
day." 

Cats can be trained to shake hands, 
jump over a stick, sit up on hind legs, 
come at a whistle, beg like a dog, but 
we seldom take the trouble to find out 
how easily they can be taught. Ma- 
dame Piozzi (Mrs. Thrale) tells us 
of Dr. Johnson's kindness to his cat, 
named Hodge. When the creature 



Qlats. 93 

had grown old and fastidious from ill- 
ness, and could eat nothing but oys- 
ters, the gruff old lexicographer always 
went out himself to buy Hodge*s din- 
ner. Bos well adds : ** I recollect Hodge 
one day scrambling up Dr. Johnson's 
breast apparently with much satisfac- 
tion, while my friend, smiling and half 
whistling, rubbed down his back and 
pulled him by the tail, and when I ob- 
served he had a fine cat, saying, ' Why 
yes, sir, but I have had cats whom I 
liked better than this,' and then, as if 
perceiving Hodge to be out of coun- 
tenance, adding, ' But he is a fine cat, 
a very fine cat indeed.' He once gave 
a ludicrous account of the despicable 
state of a young gentleman of good 
family. 'Sir, when I heard of him last 
he w^as running about town shooting 
cats.' And then, in a sort of friendly 
reverie, he added, ' But Hodge sha'n't 
be shot ; no, Hodge sha'n't be shot.* " 
And this from the gruff, dogmatic thun- 
derer who snubbed or silenced every 
antagonist. Even the selfish, courtly 
Lord Chesterfield left a permanent pen- 
sion for his cats and their descendants. 
Robert Southey has written a Memoir 



94 ills Citcrarg Zoo. 

of the Cats of Greta Hall. He liked 
to see his cats look plump and healthy, 
and tried to make them comfortable 
and happy. When they were ill he 
had them carefully nursed by the 
'' ladies of the kitchen," and doctored 
by the Keswick apothecary. Indeed, 
cats and kittens were so petted and 
fondled at Greta Hall by old and 
young that Southey sometimes called 
the place '' Cats* Eden." In a letter 
to one of his cat-loving friends he says 
that '' a house is never perfectly fur- 
nished for enjoyment unless there is a 
child in it rising three years old, and 
a kitten rising three weeks." This 
memorial gives such truthful and im- 
partial biographies of his rat-catching 
friends that he deserves to be known 
and admired as the Plutarch of Cats. 
The history was compiled for his 
daughter. He begins in this way : 
*' Forasmuch, most excellent Edith 
May, as you must always feel a natu- 
ral and becoming concern in what- 
ever relates to the house wherein you 
were born, and in which the first part 
of your life has thus far so happily 
been spent, I have for your instruc- 



Cats. 95 

tion and delight composed these mem- 
oirs, to the end that the memory of 
such worthy animals may not perish, 
but be held in deserved honour by my 
children and those who shall come 
after them." The sketch is too long 
to be given, but it is sparkling with 
fun and at times tragic with sad adven- 
tures. Their names were as remark- 
able as their characters : Madame 
Bianchi ; Pulcheria Ovid, so called 
because he might be presumed to be 
a master in the art of love ; Virgil, be- 
cause something like Ma-ro might be 
detected in his notes of courtship ; 
Othello, black and jealous ; Prester 
John, who turned out not to be of 
John's gender, and therefore had the 
name altered to Pope Joan ; Rum- 
pelstilchen, a name borrowed from 
Grimm's Tales, and Hurlyburlybuss. 
Rumpelstilchen lived nine years. After 
describing various cats, their adven- 
tures and misadventures, ■Madame Bi- 
anchi disappeared, and Pulcheria soon 
after died of a disease epidemic at that 
time among cats. '' For a consider- 
able time afterward an evil fortune at- 
tended all our attempts at re-establish- 



9^ iltg Citerars Zoo. 

ing a cattery. Ovid disappeared and 
Virgil died of some miserable distem- 
per. The Pope, I am afraid, came to a 
death of which other popes have died. 
I suspect that some poison which the 
rats had turned out of their holes 
proved fatal to their enemy. For 
some time I feared we were at the 
end of our cat-a-logue, but at last For- 
tune, as if to make amends for her late 
severity, sent us two at once, the never- 
to-be-enough-praised Rumpelstilchen, 
and the equally-to-be-admired Hurly- 
burlybuss. And 'first for the first of 
these,' as my huge favourite and al- 
most namesake Robert South says in 
his sermons." He then explains at 
length a German tale in Grimm's col- 
lection (a most charming tale it is, too), 
which gave the former cat his strange 
and magi-sonant appellation. ''Whence 
came Hurlyburlybuss w^as long a mys- 
tery. He appeared here as Manco 
Capac did in Peru and Quetzalcohuatl 
among the Aztecs — no one knew 
whence. He made himself acquainted 
with all the philofelists of the family, 
attaching himself more particularly to 
Mrs. Lorell ; but he never attempted 



(tats, 97 

to enter the house, frequently disap- 
peared for days, and once since my 
return for so long a time that he was 
actually believed to be dead and veri- 
tably lamented as such. The wonder 
was, whither did he retire at such 
times, and to whom did he belong ; 
for neither I in my daily walks, nor 
the children, nor any of the servants, 
ever by chance saw him anywhere ex- 
cept in our own domain. There was 
something so mysterious in this that 
in old times it might have excited 
strong suspicion, and he would have 
been in danger of passing for a witch 
in disguise, or a familiar. The mys- 
tery, however, was solved about four 
weeks ago, when, as we were return- 
ing home from a walk up the Greta, 
Isabel saw him on his transit across 
the road and the wall from Shulicson 
in a direction toward the hill. But to 
this day we are ignorant who has the 
honour to be his owner in the eye of 
the law, and the owner is equally igno- 
rant of the high favour in which Hurly- 
burlybuss is held, of the heroic name 
he has obtained, and that his fame has 
extended far and wide ; yea, that with 



gS iJIg Citerats Zoo. 

Rumpelstilchen he has been celebrated 
in song, and that his glory will go down 
to future generations. A strong en- 
mity existed between these two cats 
of remarkable nomenclature, and many 
were their altercations. Some weeks 
ago Hurlyburlybuss was manifestly 
emaciated and enfeebled by ill health, 
and Rumpelstilchen with great mag- 
nanimity made overtures of peace. 
The whole progress of the treaty was 
seen from the parlour window. The 
caution with which Rumpel made his 
advances, the sullen dignity with which 
they were received, their mutual un- 
easiness when Rumpel, after a slow and 
wary approach seated himself whisker 
to whisker with his rival, the mutual 
fear w^hich restrained not only teeth 
and claws but even all tones of de- 
fiance, the mutual agitation of their 
tails, which, though they did not ex- 
pand with anger could not be kept 
still for suspense, and lastly the man- 
ner in which Hurly retreated, like 
Ajax, still keeping his face toward his 
old antagonist, were worthy to have 
been represented by that painter who 
was called the Raphael of Cats. The 



(tatQ. 99 

overture, I fear, was not accepted as 
generously as it was made, for no 
sooner had Hurlyburlybuss recov- 
ered strength than hostilities were re- 
commenced with greater violence than 
before. Dreadful were the combats 
which ensued. . . . All means of recon- 
ciling them and making them under- 
stand how goodly a thing it is for cats 
to dwell together in peace, and what 
fools they are to quarrel and tear each 
other, are vain. The proceedings of 
the Society for the Abolition of War 
are not more utterly ineffectual and 
hopeless. All we can do is to act 
more impartially than the gods did 
between Achilles and Hector, and 
continue to treat both with equal re- 
gard." I will only add the closing 
words: ''And thus having brought 
down these Memoirs of the Cats of 
Greta Hall to the present day, I com- 
mit the precious memorial to your 
keeping. Most dissipated and light- 
heeled daughter, your most diligent 
and light-hearted father, Keswick, i8 
June, 1824." Rumpel lived nine years, 
surrounded by loving attentions, and 
when he died. May 18, 1833, Southey 



100 iHg Citerarji Zoo. 

wrote to an old friend, Grosvenor 
Bedford : '' Alas ! Grosvenor, this day 
poor old Rumpel was found dead, after 
as long and happy a life as cat could 
wish for, if cats form wishes on that sub- 
ject. There should be a court mourn- 
ing in cat land, and if the Dragon (a 
cat of Mr. Bedford's) wear a black rib- 
bon around his neck, or a band of crepe, 
a la militaire^ round one of the fore- 
paws, it will be but a becoming mark 
of respect. As we have no catacombs 
here, he is to be decently interred in 
the orchard, and catnip planted on his 
grave.'' 

Among modern celebrities who are 
fond of cats are the actress, Ellen 
Terry, who loves to play with kittens 
on the floor ; Mr. Edmund Yates, the 
late novelist and journalist, whose cat 
used to sit down to dinner beside her 
master ; and Julian Hawthorne, who 
has a faithful friend in his noble Tom, 
who invariably sits on his shoulder 
while he is writing. And when Tom 
thinks enough work has been done for 
one sitting, he gets down to the table 
and pulls away the manuscript. A cat 
denoted liberty, and was carved at the 



€ats. loi 

feet of the Roman Goddess of Liberty. 
Cats are seldom given credit for either 
intelligence or affection, but many 
trustworthy anecdotes prove that they 
possess both, and also that they seem 
to understand what is said, not only 
to them but about them. They are 
more unsophisticated than the dog; 
civilization to them has not yet be- 
come second nature. 

A Cat Story. 

You may be interested in hearing of 
the crafty trick of a black Persian. 
Prin is a magnificent animal, but 
withal a most dainty one, showing 
distinct disapproval of any meat not 
cooked in the especial way he likes, 
viz., roast. The cook, of whom he is 
very fond, determined to break this 
bad habit. Stewed or boiled meat was 
accordingly put ready for him, but, as 
he had often done before, he turned 
from it in disgust. However, this time 
no fish or roast was substituted. For 
three days the saucer of meat was un- 
touched, and no other food given. But 
on the fourth morning the cook was 
much rejoiced at finding the saucer 



102 ills Citeratg Z00. 

empty. Prin ran to meet her, and the 
good woman told her mistress how ex- 
tra affectionate that repentant cat was 
that morning. He did enjoy his dinner 
of roast that day (no doubt served with 
a double amount of gravy). It was not 
till the potboard under the dresser was 
cleaned on Saturday that his artfulness 
was brought to light. There, in one 
of the stewpans back of the others, was 
the contents of the saucer of stewed 
meat. There was no other animal 
about the place, and the other two 
servants were as much astonished as 
the cook at the clever trick played on 
them by this terribly spoiled pet of 
the house. But the cook was mortified 
at the thought of that saucer of roast 
beef. I know this story to be true, and 
I have known the cat for the last nine 
or ten years. It lives at Clapham. 

I will close this catalogue of feline 
attractions with two conundrums : 
Why does a cat cross the road ? Be- 
cause it wants to get to the other 
side. What is that which never was 
and never will be ? A mouse's nest in 
a cat's ear. 



ALL SORTS. 

God made all the creatures and gave them our love 

and our fear, 

To give sign, we and they are his children, one 

family here. 

Browning's Saul. 

103 



ALL SORTS. 

If thy heart be right, then will every creature be 
to thee a mirror of life, and a book of holy doctrine. 
— Thomas X Kempis. 

It would be pleasant to believe it 
was a proof of a good and tender na- 
ture to delight in pets, but men and 
women, notorious for cruelty and bad 
lives, have been devoted to them, lav- 
ishing tenderness, elsewhere denied. 
Catullus, the famous Roman poet, 
wrote a lament for Lesbia's Sparrow ; 
Lesbia, the shameless, false-hearted 
beauty who could weep for a dead 
bird, but poison her husband ! You 
often see pretty plaster heads of Les- 
bia with the bird perched upon her 
finger, her face bent toward it with a 
look that is a caress. And the poem 
has not lost its grace or charm through 
all the centuries. 

105 



io6 M'Q Citerarg Zoo. 



On the Death of Lesbians Sparrow. 

Mourn, all ye Loves and Graces ! mourn. 
Ye wits, ye gallants, and ye gay ! 

Death from my fair her bird has torn — 
Her much-loved sparrow's snatched away. 

Her very eyes she prized not so. 
For he was fond, and knew my fair 

Well as young girls their mothers know. 
And sought her breast and nestled there. 

Once, fluttering round from place to place, 

He gaily chirped to her alone ; 
But now that gloomy path must trace 

Whence Fate permits none to return. 

Accursed shades o'er hell that lower, 
Oh, be my curses on you heard ! 

Ye, that all pretty things devour. 
Have torn from me my pretty bird. 

Oh, evil deed ! Oh, sparrow dead ! 

Oh, what a wretch, if thou canst see 
My fair one's eyes with weeping red. 

And know how much she grieves for thee. 

James I, of England, whom Dick- 
ens designates as '' His Sowship," to 
express his detestation of his char- 
acter, had a variety of dumb favour- 
ites. Although a remorseless destroyer 
of animals in the chase, he had an in- 
tense pleasure in seeing them around 



^U Sorts. 107 



him happy and well cared for in a state 
of domesticity. In 1623 John Bannat 
obtained a grant of the king's interest 
in the leases of two gardens and a 
tenement in the Nuriones, on the con- 
dition of building and maintaining a 
house wherein to keep and rear his 
Majesty's newly imported silkworms. 
Sir Thomas Dale, one of the settlers of 
the then newly formed colony of Vir- 
ginia, returning to Europe on leave, 
brought with him many living speci- 
mens of American zoology, among 
them some flying squirrels. This 
coming to his Majesty's ears, he was 
seized with a boyish impatience to 
add them to the private menageries 
in St. James's Park. At the council 
table and in the circle of his courtiers 
he recurs again and again to the sub- 
ject, wondering why Sir Thomas had 
not given him ^' the first pick " of his 
cargo of curiosities. He reminded 
them how the recently arrived Mus- 
covite ambassador had brought him 
live sables, and, what he loved even 
better, splendid white gyrfalcons of 
Iceland ; and when Buckingham sug. 
gested that in the whole of her reign 

8 



io8 ittg Citerarg Zoo. 

Queen Elizabeth had never received 
live sables from the Czar, James made 
special inquiries if such were really 
the case. Some one of his loving sub- 
jects, desirous of ministering to his 
favourite hobby, had presented him 
with a cream-coloured fawn. A nurse 
was immediately hired for it, and the 
Earl of Shrewsbury commissioned to 
write as follows to Miles Whytakers, 
signifying the royal pleasure as to fu- 
ture procedure: *' The king's Majesty 
hath commissioned me to send this 
rare beast, a white hind calf, unto 
you, together with a woman, his nurse^ 
that hath kept it and bred it up. His 
Majesty would have you see it be 
kept in every respect as this good 
woman doth desire, and that the 
woman be lodged and boarded by 
you until his Majesty come to Theo- 
bald's on Monday next, and then 
you shall know further of his pleasure. 
What account his Majesty maketh of 
this fine beast you may guess, and 
no man can suppose it to be more 
rare than it is ; therefore I know that 
your care of it will be accordingly. 
So in haste I bid you my hearty fare- 



!a.U 00rt0. 109 



well. At Whitehall, this 6th of No- 
vember, 161 1." 

About 1629 the King of Spain effect- 
ed an important diversion in his own 
favour by sending the king — priceless 
gift — an elephant and five camels. Go- 
ing through London after midnight, 
says a state paper, they could not pass 
unseen, and the clamour and outcry 
raised by some street loiterers at sight 
of their ponderous bulk and ungainly 
step, roused the sleepers from their 
beds in every street through which 
they passed. News of this unlooked- 
for addition to the Zoological Garden 
is conveyed to Theobald^s as speedily 
as horseflesh, whip and spur, could 
do their work. Then arose an inter- 
change of missives to and fro betwixt 
the king, my lord treasurer, and Mr. 
Secretary Connay, grave, earnest, de- 
liberate, as though involving the set- 
tlement or refusal of some treaty of 
peace. In muttered sentences, not 
loud but deep, the thrifty lord treas- 
urer shows " how little he is in love 
with royal presents, which cost his 
master as much to maintain as could 
a garrison." No matter. Warrants 



no ittg tiuxavx) Zoo. 

are issued to the officers of the Mews 
and to Buckingham, master of the 
horse, that the elephant is to be daily 
well dressed and fed, but that he 
should not be led forth to water, nor 
any admitted to see him without di- 
rections from his keeper. The camels 
are to be daily grazed in the park, but 
brought back at night with all pos- 
sible precautions to secui^e them from 
the vulgar gaze. The elephant had 
two Spaniards and two Englishmen to 
take care of him, and the royal quad- 
ruped had royal fare. His keepers 
affirm that from the month of Sep- 
tember till April he must drink not 
water but w^yne ; and from April to 
September '' he must have a gallon of 
wyne the day." His winter allowance 
was six bottles per diem, but perhaps 
his keepers relieved him occasionally 
of a portion of the tempting beverage 
which they probably thought too good 
to waste on an animal even if it be a 
royal elephant. 

When Voltaire was living near Ge- 
neva he owned a large monkey which 
used to attack and even bite both 
friends and enemies. This repulsive 



^U Sorts. Ill 



pet one da}' gave his master three 
wounds in the leg, obliging him for 
some time to hobble on crutches. He 
had named the creature Luc, and in 
conversation with intimate friends he 
also gave the King of Prussia the same 
name, because, said he, '' Frederick is 
like my monkey, who bites those who 
caress him." As a contrast, remember 
how the hermit, Thoreau, used to cul- 
tivate the acquaintance of a little mouse 
until it became really tame and would 
play a game of bopeep with his eccen- 
tric friend. 

Nothing seems too odd or disagree- 
able to be regarded with affection. 
Lord Erskine, who always expressed 
a ofreat interest in animals, had at 
one time two leeches for favourites. 
Taken dangerously ill at Portsmouth, 
he fancied that they had saved his life. 
Every day he gave them fresh water 
and formed a friendship with them. 
He said he was sure that both knew 
him, and were grateful for his atten- 
tions. He named them Home and 
Cline, for two celebrated surgeons, 
and he affirmed that their dispositions 
were quite different ; in fact, he thought 



112 i!T2 £iterar3 Soa. 

he distinguished individuality in these 
black squirmers from the mire. 

Even pigs have had the good for- 
tune to interest persons of genius. 
Robert Herrick had a pet pig which 
he fed dail}' with milk from a silver 
tankard, and Miss Martineau had the 
same odd fancy. She, too, had a pet 
pig which she had washed and scrubbed 
daily. When too ill to superintend the 
operation she would listen at her win- 
dow for piggie's squeal, advertising 
that the operation had commenced. 

John Wilson, better known as Chris- 
topher North, loved many pets, and 
was as unique in his methods with 
them as in all other things. His in- 
tense fondness for animals and birds 
was often a trial to the rest of the 
family, as when his daughter found 
he had made a nest for some young 
gamecocks in her trunk of party 
dresses which was stored in the attic. 
On his library table, where '' fishing 
rods found company with Ben Jonson 
and Jeremy Taylor reposed near a 
box of barley-sugar," a tame sparrow 
he had befriended hopped blithely 
about, master of the situation. This 



aU 00rt0. 113 



tiny pet imagined itself the most im- 
portant occupant of the room. It 
would nestle in his waistcoat, hop 
upon his shoulder, and seemed influ- 
enced by constant association with a 
giant, for it grew in stature until it 
was alleged that the sparrow was 
gradually becoming an eagle. 

The Rev. Gilbert White, who wrote 
the Natural History of Selborne, speaks 
of a tortoise which he petted, saying, 
** I was much taken with its sagacity 
in discerning those that show it kind 
offices, for as soon as the good old 
lady comes in sight who has waited 
on it for more than thirty years, it 
hobbles toward its benefactress with 
awkward alacrity, but remains inat- 
tentive to strangers. Thus not only 
*^the ox knoweth his owner and the 
ass his master s crib,'* but the most ab- 
ject reptile and torpid of beings distin- 
guishes the hand that feeds it, and is 
touched with the feelings of gratitude. 
Think of Jeremy Bentham growing a 
sort of vetch in his garden to cram his 
pockets with to feed the deer in Ken- 
sington Gardens ! '' I remember,'' says 
his friend who tells the story, '' his 



114 illp fiiterarg Soa. 

pointing it out to me and telling me 
the virtuous deer were fond of it, and 
ate it out of his hand." Like Byron, 
he once kept a pet bear, but he was in 
Russia at the time, and the wolves got 
into the poor creature's box on a ter- 
rible night and carried off a part of 
his face, a depredation which the phi- 
losopher never forgot nor forgave to 
his dying day. He always kept a sup- 
ply of stale bread in a drawer of his 
dining table for the '' mousies." 

The Brownings had many pets, 
among them an owl, which after 
death was stuffed and given an hon- 
oured position in the poet's library. 
Sydney Smith professed not to care 
for pets, especially disliking dogs ; but 
he named his four oxen Tug and Lug, 
Haul and Crawl, and dosed them when 
he fancied they needed medicine. Miss 
Martineau relates that a phrenologist 
examining Sydney's head announced, 
" This gentleman is a naturalist, always 
happy among his collections of birds 
and fishes." '' Sir," said Sydney, turn- 
ing upon him solemnly with wide-open 
eyes — '' sir, I don't know a fish from 
a bird." But this ignorance and indif- 



^11 Sorts. 115 



ference were all assumed. His daugh- 
ter, writing of his daily home life, says : 
'' Dinner was scarcely over ere he called 
for his hat and stick and sallied forth 
for his evening stroll. Each cow and 
calf and horse and pig were in turn 
visited and fed and patted, and all 
seemed to welcome him ; he cared 
for their comforts as he cared for the 
comforts of every living being around 
him." He used to say : '' I am for all 
cheap luxuries, even for animals ; now, 
all animals have a passion for scratch- 
ing their back bones ; they break down 
your gates and palings to effect this. 
Look, this is my Universal Scratcher, 
a sharp-edged pole resting on a high 
and low post, adapted to every height, 
from a horse to a lamb. Even the 
Edinburgh Reviewer can take his turn ; 
you have no idea how popular it is." 
Who could resist repeating just here 
the wit's impromptu epigram upon the 
sarcastic, diminutive Jeffrey when the 
caustic critic w^as surprised riding on 
the children's pet donkey? *' I still 
remember the joy-inspiring laughter 
that burst from my father at this un- 
expected sight, as, advancing toward 



ii6 iJIg Citerar^ Zoo. 

his old friend, with a face beaming 
with delight, he exclaimed : 

Witty as Horatius Flaccus, 
As great a Jacobin as Gracchus, 
Short, though not as fat as Bacchus, 
Riding on a Httle jackass. 

Before saying good-bye to the don- 
key I must give the appeal of Mr. 
Evarts's little daughter at their sum- 
mer home in Windsor, Vermont, to 
her learned and judicial father ; so 
naive and irresistible : 

" Dear Papa: Do come home soon. 
The donkey is so lonesome without 
you!'' 

I once heard Mr. Evarts lamenting 
to Chief-Justice Chase that he had been 
badly beaten at a game of High Low 
Jack by Ben, the learned pig. '^ I 
know now," said he, '* why two pipes 
are called a hog's head. It is on ac- 
count of their great capacity ! " 

One would fancy that a busy lawyer 
would have no time to give to pets, but 
this is far from true. Burnet, in his life 
of Sir Matthew Hale, the most eminent 
lawyer in the time of Charles I and 
Cromwell, says of him, that *' his merci- 



^U Sorts. 117 



fulness extended even to his beasts, for 
when the horses that he had kept long 
grew old, he would not suffer them 
to be sold or much wrought, but or- 
dered his man to turn them loose on 
his grounds and put them only to easy 
work, such as going to market and the 
like. He used old dogs also with the 
same care ; his shepherd having one 
that was blind with age, he intended 
to have killed or lost him, but the judge 
coming to hear of it made one of his 
servants bring him home and feed him 
till he died. And he was scarce ever 
seen more angry than with one of his 
servants for neglecting a bird that he 
kept so that it died for want of food.*' 
Daniel Webster's fondness for ani- 
mals is well known. When his friends 
visited him at Marshfield the first ex- 
cursion they must take would be to his 
barns and pastures, where he would 
point out the beauties of an Alderney, 
and mention the number of quarts she 
gave daily, with all a farmer's pride, 
adding, '* I know, for I measured it 
myself." Choate used to tell a story 
a propos of this. Once, when spending 
the Sabbath at Marshfield, he went to 



ii8 iltg £iterarB Zoo. 

his room after breakfast to read. Soon 
there came an authoritative knock at 
the door, and Mr. Webster shouted, 
''What are you doing, Choate ? " He 
replied, ''I'm reading." "Oh/' said 
Webster, " come down and see the 
pigs." 

He would often rout up his son 
Fletcher at a provokingly early hour 
to go out and hold a lantern while he 
fed the oxen with nubs of corn ; and, 
noticing a decided lack of enthusiasm 
in Fletcher, would say : " You do not 
enjoy this society, my son ; it's better 
than I find in the Senate." It was a 
touching scene when on the last day, 
when he sat in his loved library, he 
longed to look once more into the 
kindly faces of his honest oxen, and 
had them driven up to the window to 
sa}^ good-bye. Speaking of Choate 
recalls a comical story about his find- 
ing in his path, during a summer 
morning's walk, a dozen or more dor- 
beetles sprawling on their backs in the 
highway enjoying the warm sunshine. 
With great care he tipped them all 
over into a normal position, when a 
friend coming along asked curiously, 



^U Sorts. 119 



*' What are you doing, Mr. Choate?" 
*' Why, these poor creatures got over- 
turned, and I am helping them to take 
a fresh start." '' But," said the other^ 
*'they do that on purpose; they are 
sunning themselves, and will go right 
back as they were." This was a new 
idea to the puzzled pleader, but with 
one of those rare smiles which lit up 
his sad, dark face so wonderfully, he 
said : '' Never mind, I've put them 
right ; if they go back, it is at their 
own risk." And an interesting anec- 
dote is told in his biography of his 
touch of human sympathy for inani- 
mate objects : ** When as a boy he 
drove his father's cows, he says, more 
than once when he had thrown awa}^ 
his switch, he has returned to find it, 
and has carried it back and thrown it 
under the tree from which he took it, 
for he thought, ' Perhaps there is, after 
all, some yearning of Nature between 
them still.' " 

There are enough anecdotes about 
birds as pets to fill another big book. 
One of Dickens's most delightful char- 
acters was ponderous, impetuous Law- 
rence Boythorn, with his pet bird lov- 



I20 iHg Citerarg Zoo. 

ingly circling about him. In Wash- 
ington, in Salmon P. Chase's home, 
when he was Secretary of the Treas- 
ury, lived a pet canary, one of the 
tamest, which had a special liking for 
the grave, reserved statesman. It was 
allowed to fly about the room freely, 
and had an invariable habit of calmly 
waiting beside the secretary at dinner 
until he had used his finger-bowl ; then 
Master Canary would take possession 
of it for a bath. In Jean Paul Richter's 
study stood a table with a cage of ca- 
naries. Between this and his writing 
table ran a little ladder, on which the 
birds could hop their way to the 
poet's shoulder, where they frequent- 
ly perched. 

Celia Thaxter loved birds. She 
writes : '' I can not express to you my 
distress at the destruction of the birds. 
You know how I love them ; every 
other poem I have written has some 
bird for its subject, and I look at the 
ghastly horror of women's headgear 
with absolute suffering. I remon- 
strate with every wearer of birds. 
No woman worthy of the name would 
wish to be instrumental in destroying 



3.U Sorts. I2T 



the dear, beautiful creatures, and for 
such idle folly — to deck their heads 
like squaws — who are supposed to 
know no better — when a ribbon or a 
flower would serve their purpose just 
as well, and not involve this fearful 
sacrifice.'* In a letter she describes a 
night visit from birds. 

" Two or three of the earlier were 
down in the big bay window, and be- 
tween two and three o'clock in the 
morning it began softlv to rain, and 
all at once the room filled with birds : 
song sparrows, flycatchers, wrens, nut- 
hatches, yellow birds, thrushes, all 
kinds of lovelv feathered creatures 
fluttered in and sat on picture frames 
and gas fixtures, or whirled, agitated, 
in mid air, while troops of others beat 
their heads against the glass outside, 
vainly striving to get in. The light 
seemed to attract them as it does the 
moths. We had no peace, there was 
such a crowd, such cries and chirps 
and flutterings. I never heard of such 
a thing ; did you ? 

*' Oh, the birds I I do believe few 
people enjoy them as you and I do. 
The song sparrows and white-throats 



122 iHg £iterara Zoo. 

follow after me like chickens when 
they see me planting. The martins 
almost light on my head; the hum- 
ming birds do, and tangle their little 
claws in my hair ; so do the sparrows. 
I wish somebody were here to tell me 
the different birds, and recognise these 
different voices. There are more birds 
than usual this year, I am happy to say. 
The women have not assassinated them 
all for the funeral pyres they carry on 
their heads. . . . What between the 
shrikes and owls and cats and weasels 
and women — worst of all — I wonder 
there's a bird left on this planet. 

'' In the yard of the house at New- 
ton, where we used to live, I was in 
the habit of fastening bones (from 
cooked meat) to a cherry tree which 
grew close to my sitting-room window ; 
and when the snow lay thick upon the 
ground that tree would be alive with 
blue jays and chickadees, and wood- 
peckers, redheaded and others, and 
sparrows (not English), and various 
other delightful creatures. I was 
never tired watching them and lis- 
tening to them. The sweet house- 
keeping of the martins in the little 



^U Sorts. 123 



boxes on my piazza roof is more en- 
chanting to me than the most fasci- 
nating opera, and I worship music. 
I think I must have begun a con- 
scious existence as some kind of a 
bird in aeons past. I love them so I 
I am always up at four, and I hear 
everything every bird has to sa}' on 
any subject whatever. Tell me, have 
you ever tied mutton and beef bones 
to the trees iaimediately around the 
house where you live for the birds? " 
Matthew x\rnold wrote of his canary 
and cat in a most loving way. 

Poor Matthias. 

Poor Matthias I Found him lying 
Fallen beneath his perch and dying ? 
Found him stiff, you say, though warm, 
All convulsed his little form ? 
Poor canar}', many a year 
Well he knew his mistress dear ; 
Now in vain you call his name, 
Vainly raise his rigid frame. 

Vainly warm him in your heart, 
Vainly kiss his golden crest, 
Smooth his ruffled plumage fine, 
Touch his trembling beak with wine. 
One more gasp, it is the end, 
Dead and mute our tiny friend. 
9 



124 itlg Citcrarg Zoo. 

Poor Matthias, wouldst thou have 
More than pity ? Claim 'st a stave ? 
Friends more near us than a bird 
We dismissed without a word. 
Rover with the good brown head, 
Great Attossa, they are dead ; 
Dead, and neither prose nor rh}*me 
Tells the praises of their prime. 

Thou hast seen Attossa sage 
Sit for hours beside thy cage ; 
Thou wouldst chirp, thou foolish bird, 
Flutter, chirp, she never stirred. 
What were now these toys to her? 
Down she sank amid her fur ; 
Eyed thee with a soul resigned. 
And thou deemedst cats were kind. 
Cruel, but composed and bland. 
Dumb, inscrutable and grand, 
So Tiberius might have sat 
Had Tiberius been a cat : 

Fare thee well, companion dear. 
Fare forever well, nor fear. 
Tiny though thou art, to stray 
Down the uncompanioned way. 
We without thee, little friend. 
Many years have yet to spend ; 
What are left will hardly be 
Better than we spent with thee. 

Maclise was one of the intimate as- 
sociates, if we may use the expression, 
of Dickens's celebrated Raven. The 



!3.11 Sorts. 



letter in which the bereaved owners 
announced to Maclise the death of 
this interesting bird has been pub- 
lished,, but the reply of the artist is 
now printed for the first time : 

'* March ij, 1841. 

" My dear Dickexs: I received the 
mournful intelligence of our friend's 
decease last night at eleven, and the 
shock was great indeed. I have just 
dispatched the announcement to poor 
Forster, who will, I am sure, sym- 
pathize deeply with our bereave- 
ment. 

'' I know not what to think is the 
probable cause of his death — I reject 
the idea of the Butcher Boy, for the 
orders he must have in his (the Raven's) 
lifetime received on acct. of the Raven 
himself must have been considerable — 
I rather cling to the notion of felo de 
St", but this will no doubt come out 
upon the post mortem. How blest 
we are to have such an intelligent 
coroner in Mr. Wakely ! I think he 
was just of those grave, melancholic 
habits w^hich are the noticeable signs 
of your intended suicide — his solitary 



126 iilg Citerarg Zoo, 

life — those gloomy tones, when he did 
speak — which was always to the pur- 
pose, witness his last dying speech — 
* Hallo, old girl ! ' which breathes of 
cheerfulness and triumphant resigna- 
tion — his solemn suit of raven black 
which never grew rusty — altogether 
his character was the very prototype 
of a Byron Hero and even of a Scott 

— a master of Ravenswood We 

ought to be glad he had his family, 
I suppose ; he seems to have intended 
it, however, for his solicitude to de- 
posit in those Banks in the Garden 
his savings, were always very touch- 
ing — I suppose his obsequies will take 
place immediately — It is beautiful — 
the idea of his return soon after death 
to the scene of his early youth and 
all his joyful associations, to lie with 
kindred dusts amid his own ances- 
tral groves, after having come out 
and made such a noise in the world, 
having clearly booked his place in 
that immortality coach driven by 
Dickens. 

''Yes, he committed suicide, he felt 
he had done it and done with life — 
the hundreds of years! ! What were 



ail Sorts. 12] 



thev to him ? There was nothins^ near 
to live for — and he committed the 
rash act. 

*' Sympathizingly yours, 

^^D. Maclise." 

The pet dove of Thurlow Weed 
seemed inconsolable after his death. 
When any gentleman called at the 
house the bird would alight on his 
shoulder, coo, and peer into his face. 
Then finding it was not his dear 
friend, he would sadlv seek some 
other perch. Miss Weed writes : 
'' Since the day that father's remains 
were carried away, the affectionate 
creature has been seeking for his mas- 
ter. He flies through every room in 
the house, and fairlv haunts the librarv. 
Many times every day the mourning 
bird comes and takes a survev of the 
room. He will tread over every inch 
of space on the lounge, and then go 
to the rug, over which he will walk 
repeatedly, as if in expectation of his 
dead master's coming. Does not this 
seem akin to human grief?'* 

Whittier wrote a good deal about 
his pet parrot. Read his poem called 



1 28 iltg Citerarg ^00. 

''The Bird's Question." Aiter his 
tragic end, the Quaker bard wrote of 
him : *' I have met with a real loss. 
Poor Charlie is dead. He has gone 
where the good parrots go. He has 
been ailing and silent for some time, 
and he finally died. Do not laugh at 
me, but I am sorry enough to crj- if 
it would do any good. He was an old 
friend. Lizzie liked him. And he 
Avas the heartiest, jolliest, pleasantest 
old fellow I ever saw." He used to 
perch upon the back of his master's 
chair at meal time ; at times disgrace- 
fully profane, especially when in mo- 
ments of extreme excitement he would 
climb to the steeple by way of the 
lightning rod, and there he would 
dance and sing and swear on a Sun- 
day morning, amusing the passer-by 
and shocking his owner. At last he 
fell down the chimney, and was not 
discovered for two days. He was res- 
cued in the middle of the night, and, al- 
though he partially recovered, he soon 
died. Whittier said : *' We buried poor 
Charlie decently. If there is a par- 
rot's paradise he ought to go there.'* 
He also had a pet Bantam rooster 



^U Sorts. 129 



which would perch on his shoulder, 
and liked to be buttoned up in his 
coat. Grace Greenwood in Heads 
or Tails speaks of a diplomatic parrot 
belonging to Seward, at Washington, 
taking part in political discussion, try- 
ing to scream Sumner down, and so 
sympathetic that when his master had 
a cough he had symptoms of bron- 
chitis. 

In a trustworthy collection of epi- 
taphs may be found this quaint tribute 
with old-fashioned formalily to a pet 
bird: 

*' Here lieth, aged three months, the 
body of Richard Acanthus, a young 
person of unblemished character. He 
was taken in his callow infancy from 
the wing of a tender parent by the 
rough and pitiless hand of a two- 
legged animal without feathers. 

" Though born with the most aspir- 
ing disposition and unbending love of 
freedom he was closely confined in a 
grated prison, and scarcely permitted 
to view those fields of which he had 
an undoubted charter. 

*' Deeply sensible of this infringe- 
ment of his natural rights, he was often 



I30 ills £iterat2 Zoo. 

heard to petition for redress in the most 
plaintive notes of harmonious sorrow. 
At length his imprisoned soul burst 
the prison which his body could not, 
and left a lifeless heap of beauteous 
feathers. 

'' If suffering innocence can hope for 
retribution, deny not to the gentle 
shade of this unfortunate captive the 
humble though uncertain hope of ani- 
mating some happier form ; or trying 
his new-fledged pinions in some happy 
Elysium, beyond the reach of Man, 
the tyrant of this lower world.'* 

Few women are so fond of pets as 
Sarah Bernhardt. She carries five or 
six with her in all her travels. When 
in New York the French actress has 
apartments at the Hoffman House. 
When the writer last visited her there 
he was received, upon entering the 
sitting room, by half a dozen dogs, 
ranging in size and species from the 
massive St. Bernard to the tiny, shiver- 
ing black and tan. 

The actress rose from a low divan 
and extended one hand to her guest 
while she pressed two very small 
snakes to her bosom with the other. 



^U Sorts. 13 1 



After she had resumed her seat upon 
the divan, and while conversing, she 
fondled the snakes or allowed them to 
squirm at will over her person. 

In reply to questions, Madame Bern- 
hardt said that the snakes were used 
in the famous scene where Cleopatra 
presses the asp to her bosom and dies. 
The actress explained that the snakes 
with which she was playing were pre- 
sented to her by a gentleman in Phila- 
delphia. She spoke regretfully of the 
death of the snakes which she had 
brought with her from France, and 
which had succumbed to the hard- 
ships of the ocean voyage. 

Emily Crawford tells some good 
stories about '' The Elder Dumas," 
the most dashingly picturesque char- 
acter, surely, in the whole range of 
literature. We quote a paragraph 
showing Dumas's fondness for ani- 
mals : 

'' At his architectural folly of Monte 
Cristo, near Saint-Germain-en-Laye, 
which he built at a cost of upward of 
seven hundred thousand francs, and 
sold for thirty-six thousand francs in 
1848, Dumas had uninclosed grounds 



132 iHg Citerarg Zoo. 

and gardens, which, with the house, 
afforded lodgings and entertainment 
not only to a host of Bohemian 
* sponges/ but to all the dogs, cats, 
and donkeys that chose to quarter 
themselves in the place. It was called 
by the neighbours ' /a Maison de Bon 
Dieu' There was a menagerie in the 
park, peopled by three apes ; Ju- 
gurtha, the vulture, whose transport 
from Africa, whence Dumas fetched 
him, cost forty thousand francs (it 
would be too long to tell why) ; a big 
parrot called Duval ; a macaw named 
Papa, and another christened Everard; 
LucuUus, the golden pheasant ; Csesar, 
the game-cock; a pea-fowl and aguinea- 
fowl ; Myeouf II, the Angora cat, and 
the Scotch pointer, Pritchard. This 
dog was a character. He was fond of 
canine society, and used to sit in the 
road looking out for other dogs to 
invite them to keep him company at 
Monte Cristo. He was taken by his 
master to Ham to visit Louis Napo- 
leon when a prisoner there. The 
latter wished to keep Pritchard, but 
counted without the intelligence of 
the animal in asking Dumas before 



!a.U Sorts. 133 



his face to leave him behind. The 
pointer set up a howl so piteous that 
the governor of the prison withdrew 
the authorization he had given his 
captive to retain him." 

It is difficult to think of any created 
thing that has not been found suf- 
ficiently interesting to be petted by 
some one ! 

Pliny tells us of a cow^ that followed 
a Pythagorean philosopher on all his 
travels. Proud Wolsey was on famil- 
iar terms with a venerable carp. St. 
Anthony had a fondness for pigs. 
Frank Buckland took to rats. Buffon's 
toad has become historical. Clive 
owned a pet tortoise. Gautier wrote 
of his lizards, magpie, and chameleon. 
Butterflies and crickets have been 
domesticated and found responsive. 
Rosa Bonheur used to be always es- 
corted by two great dogs, one on 
either side, while in her home a fa- 
vourite monkey played upon her stair- 
case, and amused visitors w^ith its gam- 
bols and pranks. Cowper doffed his 
melancholy to play with hares, and 
immortalized his rather ungrateful 
pensioners in verse : 



134 iHg Citerarg Zoo. 

Well — one at least is safe. One sheltered hare 
Has never heard the sanguinary yell 
Of cruel man, exulting in her woes, 
Innocent partner of my peaceful home, 
Whom ten long years' experience of my care 
Has made at last familiar ; she has lost 
Much of her vigilant instinctive dread. 
Not needful here, beneath a roof like mine. 
Yes — thou mayst eat thy bread, and lick the 

hand 
That feeds thee ; thou mayst frolic on the floor 
At ev'ning, and at night retire secure 
To thy straw couch, and slumber unalarmed ; 
For I have gained thy confidence, have pledged 
All that is human in me, to protect 
Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love. 
If I survive thee, I will dig thy grave ; 
And, when I place thee in it, sighing say, 
I knew at least one hare that had a friend. 

James M. Hoppin, in his Old Eng- 
land, tells of his visit to Olney, where 
Cowper lived. He went to the rooms 
where he kept his hares, Puss, Bess, 
and Tiny ; of the veteran survivor of 
this famous trio he says Cowper wrote : 

Though duly from my hand he took 

His pittance every night, 
He did it with a jealous look, 

And when he could, would bite. 

Dr. John Hall was seen trudging 
through Central Park last winter, fol- 



aU Sorts. 135 



lowed by a troop of frisky little gay 
squirrels. He had been feeding nuts 
to them, and they scattered the snow 
in clouds as they scampered along 
hoping to get more. 

It would be interesting to quote 
from very many distinguished per- 
sons who believe in the immortality 
of the lower animals. 

Lord Shaftesbury says : '' I have ever 
believed in a happy future for animals. 
I can not say or conjecture how or 
where, but sure I am that the love so 
manifested, by dogs especially, is an 
emanation from the Divine essence, 
and as such it can, or rather it will, 
never be extinguished.'* 

Frances Power Cobbe wrote : " I 
entirely believe in a higher existence 
hereafter, both for myself and for those 
whose less happy lives on earth entitle 
them far more to expect it, from eter- 
nal love and justice." 

Mr. Somerville said : '' The dear ani- 
mals I believe we shall meet. They suf- 
fer so often here they must live again ! 
Pain seems a poor proof of immor- 
tality, but it is used by theologians, 
and we find many great souls who be- 



13^ iSIg Citerarg Zoa. 

lieve and hope that animals may also 
have another life. Agassiz believed 
in this firmly. Bishop Butler saw no 
reason why the latent powers and ca- 
pacities of the lower animals should 
not be developed in the future, and 
in his Analogy of Religion he endeav- 
oured to carry out this train of thought, 
and to show that the lower animals do 
possess those mental and moral char- 
acteristics which we admit in ourselves 
to belong to the immortal spirit and not 
to the perishable body." 

The Rev. J. G. Wood has written 
a most interesting book on Man and 
Beast: Here and Hereafter, with the 
especial aim of proving the immor- 
tality of the brute creation, showing 
that they share with man the attri- 
butes of reason, language, memory, a 
sense of moral responsibility, unself- 
ishness, and love, all of which belong 
to the spirit and not to the body. 

Bayard Taylor says, '' If one should 
surmise a lower form of spiritual be- 
ing yet equally indestructible, who 
need take alarm ? " ** Yea, they have 
all one breath, so that a man hath no 
pre-eminence above a beast, for all is 



^U Sorts. 137 



vanity/' said the Preacher, more than 
two thousand years ago. In Taylor's 
poem to an old horse, Ben Equus, 
which died on the farm when he was 
a young man, he uses the same idea : 

For I may dream fidelity like thine, 

May save some essence in thee from decay, 

That, not neglected by the Soul Divine, 
Thy being rises on some unknown way. 

Some intermediate heaven, where fields are fresh, 
And golden stables littered deep with fern ; 

Where fade the wrongs that horses knew in flesh. 
And all tiie joys that horses felt return. 

Mrs. Charles writes : 

Is all this lost in nothingness, 

Such gladness, love, and hope, and trust, 
Such busy thought our thoughts to guess, 

All trampled into common dust ? 

Or is there something yet to come 
From all our science all concealed. 

About the patient creatures dumb 
A secret yet to be revealed ? 

Writing of the death of a favourite 
spaniel, Southey expresses the same 
faith : 

. . . Mine is no narrow creed. 
And he that gave thee being did not frame 
The mystery of life to be the sport 
Of merciless man. There is another world 



13S iKg £iterars 2 00. 

For all that live and move — a better one, 
Where the proud bipeds v^ho would fain confine 
Infinite Goodness to the little bounds 
Of their own charity, may envy thee. 

Mrs. Mary Somerville wrote these 
words at the age of eighty-nine : '' If 
animals have no future, the existence 
of many is most wretched. Multi- 
tudes are starved, cruelly beaten, and 
loaded during life ; many die under a 
barbarous vivisection. 1 can not be- 
lieve that any creature was created 
for uncompensated misery ; it would 
be contrary to the attributes of God's 
mercy and justice. I am sincerely 
happy to find that I am not the only 
believer in the immortality of the 
lower animals." Lamartine has the 
same thought in an address to his 
dog, and many other wise men have 
hoped that such a future was a reality. 

The Rev. Henry Storrs says it is 
wisest to treat animals kindly, because, 
if we are ever to meet them again, it 
will be pleasanter to have them on our 
side. 

Henry Ward Beecher many times 
owned his love for horses, as in his 
one novel, Norwood : 



^U Sorts. 139 



'' I tell you," said Hiram, turning 
slightly toward the doctor, ** these 
horses are jest as near human as is 
good for 'em. A good horse has 
sense jest as much as a man has ; and 
he's proud, too, and he loves to be 
praised, and he knows when you treat 
him with respect. A good horse has 
the best p'ints of a man without his 
failin's." 

''What do you think becomes of 
horses, Hiram, when they die?" said 
Rose. 

'' Wal, Miss Rose, it's my opinion 
that there's use for horses hereafter, 
and that you'll find there's a horse- 
heaven. There's Scripture for that, 
too." 

''Ah!" said Rose, a little surprised 
at these confident assertions. " What 
Scripture do you mean ? " 

" Why, in the Book of Revelation ! 
Don't it give an account of a white 
horse, and a red horse, and black 
horses, and gray horses? I've allers 
s'posed that when it said Death rode 
on a pale horse, it must have been 
gray, 'cause it had mentioned white 
once already. In the ninth chapter, 
10 



I40 iHa Citerarg Zoo. 

too, it says there was an army of two 
hundred thousand horsemen. Now, I 
should like to know where they got 
so many horses in heaven, if none of 
'em that die off here go there? It's 
my opinion that a good horse's a 
darned sight likelier to go to heaven 
than a bad man ! " 

When we see the superiority of a 
noble horse to his brutal or drunken 
driver, it seems at least possible, and 
most of us have lost some pet that we 
would rather meet again than the ma- 
jority of our acquaintances. 

Helen Barron Bostwick, after ''bury- 
ing her pretty brown mare under the 
cherry tree/' inquires : 

Is this the end ? 
Do you know ? 

and closes her poem as follows : 

Is there aught of harm believing, 
That, some newer form receiving, 
They may find a wider sphere, 
Live a larger life than here ? 
That the meek, appealing eyes, 
Haunted by strange mysteries. 
Find a more extended field. 
To new destinies unsealed ; 



^U Sorts. 141 



I 



Or, that in the ripened prime 
Of some far-off summer time, 
Ranging that unknown domain, 
We may find our pets again. 

Sir Edwin Arnold has translated 
much that is touching about those 
who are devoted to animals. A sin- 
ful woman led out to die by stoning 
was pardoned by the king, because of 
her pity, even at that terrible crisis, 
for a dying dog : 

Glaring upon the water out of reach, 

And praying succor in a silent speech, 

So piteous were its eyes which, when she saw, 

This woman from her foot her shoe did draw. 

Albeit death-sorrowful, and looping up 

The long silk of her girdle, made a cup 

Of the heel's hollow, and thus let it sink 

Until it touched the cool, black water's brink, 

So filled the embroidered shoe and gave a 

draught 
To the spent beast. 

This brute beast 
Testifies for thee, sister ! whose weak breast 
Death could not make ungentle. I hold rule 
In Allah's stead, w^ho is the merciful, 
And hope for mercy ; therefore go thou free — 
I dare not show less pity unto thee ! 

We send missionaries to the East to 
teach those who in some respects are 



142 iHg f iterarg Zoo. 

well fitted by their pure lives, exalted 
aims, and mercy toward the brute 
creation to instruct us. How exqui- 
site the story of the man w^ho would 
not enter heaven and leave his dog be- 
hind ! 

But the king answered : " O thou Wisest One, 
Who knowest what was, and is, and is to be, 
Still one more grace : this hound hath ate with 

me, 
Followed me, loved me : must I leave him now ? " 

" Monarch," spake Indra, ** thou art now as we — 
Deathless, divine — thou art become a god ; 
Glory and power and gifts celestial, 
And all the joys of heaven are thine for aye. 
What hath a beast with these ? Leave here thy 

hound." 
Yet Yudhishthira answered : " O Most High, 

thousand-eyed and wisest ; can it be 
That one exalted should seem pitiless .-^ 
Nay, let me lose such glon' : for its sake 

1 would not leave one living thing I loved." 

Then sternly Indra spake : " He is unclean, 

And into Swarga such shall enter not. 

The Krodhavasha's hand destroys the fruits 

Of sacrifice, if dogs defile the fire. 

Bethink thee, Dharmaraj, quit now this beast ; 

That which is seemly is not hard of heart." 

Still he replied : " Tis written that to spurn 
A suppliant equals in offence to slay 



au Sorts. 143 



A twice-born ; wherefore, not for Swarga's bliss 

Quit I, Mahendra, this poor clinging dog. 

So without any hope or friend save me, 

So wistful, fawning for my faithfulness, 

So agonized to die, unless I help 

Who among men was called steadfast and just." 

Quoth Indra : *' Nay, the altar flame is foul 
Where a dog passeth ; angry angels sweep 
The ascending smoke aside, and all the fruits 
Of offering, and the merit of the prayer 
Of him whom a hound toucheth. Leave it here ; 
He that will enter heaven must enter pure. 
Why didst thou quit thy brethren on the way, 
And Krishna, and the dear-loved Draupadi, 
Attaining firm and glorious, to this mount 
Through perfect deeds, to linger for a brute ? 
Hath Yudhishthira vanquished self, to melt 
With one poor passion at the door of bliss ? 
Stay'st thou for this, who didst not stay for 

them — 
Draupadi, Bhima ? " 

But the king yet spake : 
" 'Tis known that none can hurt or help the dead. 
They, the delightful ones, who sank and died. 
Following my footsteps, could not live again 
Though I had turned, therefore I did not turn ; 
But could help profit, I had turned to help. 
There be four sins, O Sakra, grievous sins : 
The first is making suppliants despair, 
The second is to slay a nursing wife, 
The third is spoiling Brahmans' goods by force, 
The fourth is injuring an ancient friend. 



144 iJls £iterar2 ^oo. 

These four I deem but equal to one sin, 
If one, in coming forth from woe to weal, 
Abandon any meanest comrade then." 

Straight as he spake, brightly great Indra smiled ; 
Vanished the hound, and in its stead stood there 
The Lord of Death and Justice, Dharma's self. 
Sweet were the words that fell from those dread 

lips, 
Precious the lovely praise : " O thou true king, 
Thou that dost bring to harvest the true seed 
Of Pandu's righteousness ; thou that hast ruth 
As he before, on all which lives ! O son, 
I tried thee in the Dwaita wood, what time 
They smote thy brothers, bringing water ; then 
Thou prayed'st for Nakula's life, tender and just. 
Not Bhima's nor Arjuna's, true to both. 
To Madri as to Kunti, to both queens. 
Hear thou my word : Because thou didst not 

mount 
This car divine, lest the poor hound be shent 
Who looked to thee — lo ! there is none in heaven 
Shall sit above thee, King Bharata's son ! 
Enter thou now to the eternal joys. 
Living and in thy form. Justice and love 
Welcome thee, monarch ; thou shalt throne with 

them." 

As a farmer and butter-maker I 
want to condense a dissertation on 
The Intellectual Cow, taken from the 
London Spectator: 

The writer resents the general im- 
pression that the cow is merely a food 



ail Sorts. 145 



machine, and proves that she never 
yet has had justice done to her men- 
tal qualities, and is entitled to more 
respectful consideration. 

Cows certainly possess decided in- 
dividuality, and in every herd will 
be found a master mind which leads 
and domineers over the rest or acts 
as ringleader in mischief. They soon 
learn their own names, and will an- 
swer to them, and seldom make mis- 
takes as to their own stalls. They are 
also undoubtedly influenced by affec- 
tion, and will give down milk more 
freely to a friend than to one who is 
brutal in his manner. 

Moreover, they enjoy petting just 
as much as humans, and will greet 
with delight those who bring offer- 
ings of potatoes or apple-parings or 
bits of bread, or who will give their 
heads and necks the luxury of a good 
rub. 

Charles Dudley Warner, in Being 
a Boy, pays a glowing tribute to the 
Martial Turkey : 

" Perhaps it is not generally known 
that we get the idea of some of our 
best military manoeuvres from the 



146 ills tiUxax^ Zoo. 

turkey. The deploying of the skir- 
mish line in advance of an army is 
one of them. The drum major of our 
holiday militia companies is copied 
exactly from the turkey gobbler: he 
has the same splendid appearance, the 
same proud step, and the same martial 
aspect. The gobbler does not lead his 
forces in the field, but goes behind them, 
like the colonel of a regiment, so that 
he can see every part of the line and di- 
rect its movements. This resemblance 
is one of the most singular things in 
natural history. I like to watch the 
gobbler manoeuvring his forces in a 
grasshopper field. He throws out his 
company of two dozen turkeys in a cres- 
cent-shaped skirmish line, the number 
disposed at equal distances, while he 
walks majestically in the rear. They 
advance rapidly, picking right and left, 
with military precision, killing the foe 
and disposing of the dead bodies with 
the same peck. Nobody has yet dis- 
covered how many grasshoppers a 
turkey will hold ; but he is very much 
like a boy at a Thanksgiving dinner — 
he keeps on eating as long as the sup- 
plies last. The gobbler, in one of these 



^U Sorts. 147 



raids, does not condescend to grab a 
single grasshopper — at least, not while 
anybody is watching him. But I sup- 
pose he makes up for it when his dig- 
nity can not be injured by having spec- 
tators of his voracity ; perhaps he falls 
upon the grasshoppers when they are 
driven into a corner of the field. But 
he is only fattening himself for de- 
struction; like all greedy persons, he 
comes to a bad end. And if the tur- 
keys had any Sunday school, they 
would be taught this." 

Josh Billings, in his Animile Statis- 
tix, proved that he had been a close 
observer. He sa3^s in this comical 
medley : 

'' Kats are affectionate, they luv 
young chickens, sweet kream, and the 
best place in front of the fireplace. 

*' Dogs are faithful ; they will stick 
to a bone after everyboddy haz de- 
serted it. 

** The ox knoweth hiz master's krib, 
and that iz all he duz kno or care about 
hiz master. 

'* Munkeys are imitatiff, but if they 
kan't immitate some deviltry they ain't 
happy. 



148 ittg £iterar2 Zoo. 

'' The goose is like all other phools 
— allwuss seems anxious to prove it. 

** Ducks are only cunning about one 
thing : they lay their eggs in sitch sly 
places that sumtimes they kan't find 
them again themselfs. 

'' The mushrat kan foresee a hard 
winter and provide for it, but he 
kan't keep from gittin ketched in the 
sylliest kind ov a trap. 

** Hens know when it is a going to 
rain, and shelter themselfs, but they 
will try to hatch out a glass egg just 
az honest az they will one ov their 
own. 

'' The cuckcoo iz the greatest ekone- 
mist among the birds, she lays her eggs 
in other birds' nests, and lets them hatch 
them out at their leizure. 

** Rats hav fewer friends and more 
enemys than anything ov the four- 
legged purswashun on the face ov 
the earth, and yet rats are az plenty 
now az in the palmyest days ov the 
Roman Empire. 

'' The horse alwuss gits up from the 
ground on his fore legs first, the kow 
on her hind ones, and the dog turns 
round 3 times before he lies down. 



ail Sorts. 149 



** The kangaroo he jumps when he 
walks, the coon paces when he trots, 
the lobster travels backwards az fast 
az he does forward. 

*' The elephant has the least, and the 
rabbit the most eye for their size, and 
a rat's tale is just the length ov hiz 
boddy." 

The very latest item of interest to 
dog-lovers is the announcement that 
Bismarck has purchased a two-pound 
King Charles spaniel from the dog 
show in Boston. 

My collection is now as complete 
as the limitations of time and the pub- 
lishers will allow. As proprietor, I 
beg leave to announce my Literary 
Zoo as now open at all hours (for a 
moderate fee) to those interested in 
what we call, with conceit and pos- 
sibly ignorance, the inferior orders of 
creation, and the dumb brutes. 



THE END. 



s 



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" The tale holds the reader's interest from first to last, for it is full of 
fire and spirit, abounding in incident, and marked by good character-draw- 
ing." — Pittsburg Times. 

HTHE TRESPASSER, i2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, 
^ $1.00. 

" Interest, pith, force, and charm — Mr. Parker's new stor^r possesses all 
these qualities. . . . Almost bare of synthetical decoration, his paragraphs 
are stirring because they are real. We read at times — as we have read the 
great masters of romance— breathlessly. " — The Critic. 

** Gilbert Parker writes a strong novel, but thus far this is his master- 
piece. ... It is one of the great novels of the year." — Boston Adver- 
tiser. 

n^HE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE. i6mo. 
^ Flexible cloth, 75 cents. 

** A book which no one will be satisfied to put down until the end has 
been matter of certainty and assurance." — The Nation. 

"A story of remarkable interest, originality, and ingenuity of construc- 
tion." — Boston Home yojirnal. 



New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 



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